


Before the Darkness Swallows Us

by pomidor



Category: GOT7
Genre: AU, Bambam being the most powerful mage bacuse why not, Dark Fairytale, Jackson Wang being a true king and icon, M/M, Mark is the rich boi, Youngjae as an aspiring assasin, Yugyeom starring as Jaebum's brother, i'll be adding more tags the further I go, inspired by Swear Not by the Moon MV, prince jinyoung, seductive Jaebum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:47:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 101,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24971050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pomidor/pseuds/pomidor
Summary: When Jackson brings a stranger back to his castle, Prince Jinyoung knows the balance between the Moonblood and humans might be at risk. Especially since his eyes keep following the man.
Relationships: Im Jaebum | JB/Jackson Wang, Im Jaebum | JB/Park Jinyoung, Kunpimook Bhuwakul | BamBam/Kim Yugyeom
Comments: 233
Kudos: 241





	1. The dangerous and beautiful guest

The moment Jinyoung saw him from the balcony, he knew he couldn’t be fully human, even though, under closer inspection, he appeared to look just like one. Jinyoung had a chance to thoroughly observe their unexpected guest at dinner. His shoulder-length hair was black, not any of the lighter colours the Dal Salam sometimes had, but the hair could be dyed, and even among them, naturally light hair was rare. His skin was pale but did not take on the unnatural translucent glow characteristically belonging to the other race. The biggest difference from the Dal Salam were his completely black eyes, not reminiscent of the unnatural light blue they had. Eyes were really the only definite physical sign of the Moonblood.

Perhaps what made Jinyoung feel that way was his beauty. Despite the fact that he was dirtied with ash, his hair greasy and unkempt, Jinyoung had never seen a man this beautiful. He wasn’t sure he ever saw a woman comparable to him. Even standing next to Jackson, who was gorgeous enough to make Jinyoung’s mother remarry to a man that was her son’s age without care for the kingdom’s opinion, this stranger’s looks were stunning. His eyes weren’t big, but they had a seductive cat-like shape, coupled with straight brows that gave them a sharp quality. His face was oval, his nose straight and long, his lips thin but charming. His body was beautiful too, even under Jackson’s black cloak. He was tall, a bit taller than Jinyoung, and had wide shoulders, but was over-all on the thinner side. When he didn’t move, he looked almost like one of the marble statues of the old gods. When he did move, he was otherworldly. Jinyoung had to swallow when those dark, intense eyes landed on him, the expression on his elegant face not threatening, but not friendly either. He gazed rather curiously at Jinyoung as if trying to decide what to make of him.

“Jinyoung,” Jackson greeted him, passing right to introducing the man draped in his cloak, “this is Lim Jaebum.”

Jackson clearly wanted to say more, but Jinyoung spoke before he could.

“You’re not human,” he addressed this Jaebum, who looked at him with surprise.

“I am half-blood. How did you know?” Jaebum asked, his brows furrowed.

Jackson didn’t seem shocked by the reveal that there was a half Dal Salam in his castle, so he must have known beforehand. This was the first time since Jinyoung’s father's assassination that someone of Moonblood was allowed into these walls, so Jackson had some explaining to do.

“Why is he here?” Jinyoung said, ignoring the question the beautiful man gave him.

Jackson asked both of them to sit down and Jinyoung was surprised when Jaebum fell tiredly into the chair and started eating what was given to him without waiting for them, devouring the chicken as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Jaebum is Yugyeom’s half-brother,” Jackson started, looking at the man with a soft expression on his face, “remember Lord Kijung Lim? He is his child.”

Jinyoung was astonished by this. When he heard the man say his surname, he thought he surely couldn’t have belonged to that Lim family. If this guy was lord Lim’s and lady Kim’s son, that meant he was an aristocrat on the human side, as well as among the Dal Salam.

“They were keeping him in a cage, like an animal. When we attacked the Kim’s villa, Yugyeom was already gone. They left him there to die.”

Jinyoung glanced at Jaebum, who still ate voraciously, seemingly uncaring they were talking about him.

Why did Jackson bring him here? While he had a somehow soft heart for those in need, he could have just rescued him and sent him to be tended somewhere else. This, in itself, was suspicious enough. There were half-bloods among their people, but this man had lived on the other side. He surely couldn’t be trusted to be let into their castle.

“Who are you?” Jaebum suddenly asked him, no trace of respect in his voice. It only made Jinyoung more sure he had not been raised in a cage.

“My name is Park Jinyoung.”

Jaebum’s eyes widened.

“You’re the prince!” he exclaimed.

“You seem to know a lot about us, for a prisoner,” Jinyoung said accusingly.

Not only that, by the way he spoke, by the way he sat, it was all too visible that Jaebum had to remind himself to act ungraceful.

“My father taught me everything. Until he and my mother lived, I had been treated well, not as main family, but close enough. You may have seen my father, he visited the court, didn’t he? My mother loved him, but when he died I stopped existing for her. When she died, Yugyeom stopped pretending he ever considered me as anything close to a brother. I wanted to escape, so he closed me up.”

“Why did he leave you behind then?”

“He wasn’t even at home when we were warned about your attack. The servants left me.”

“Did they leave you because they thought we would kill you, or save you?” Jackson asked.

“I don’t think they thought about me at all. They were too occupied with saving their lives,” Jaebum answered, but his attention seemed to be fixed on Jinyoung now, “aren’t you the rightful heir to the throne? Why is Jackson the king?”

Jackson didn’t seem very moved by this dirty outsider calling him by his name, nor by his insistent questions.

“Even though, legally, I should have given away the throne to Jinyoung after my wife, his mother, died, he wanted me to keep my position.”

Jinyoung didn’t see why he should explain himself to a possible spy, but he added, “Jackson is more suitable to be a leader.”

Jaebum smiled, in an unfriendly, sharp way, which made Jinyoung uneasy.

“Not ready for your responsibilities?” he said in a taunting tone and Jinyoung stared at him, offended, while Jackson laughed.

“Be careful, Jaebum, he still has the authority to sentence you.”

Jaebum’s eyes flashed with wild amusement.

“I bet you’d like to,” he said, smirking and looking straight into Jinyoung’s eyes.

Jinyoung pressed his lips together with a harsh gaze back, his heart beating crazily in his chest.

***

Jinyoung wasn’t prepared to see him again that night, and on his balcony at that. What woke him was the soft humming that came from outside the window. It made him stand up from the bed without really questioning himself, or even thinking about taking a sword to the source.

When the curtain that was flailing in the wind stopped obstructing the sight, he almost stepped back. It was definitely Jaebum, but he looked different now. His face and hair were clean, fresh as the breeze, his skin glistening unnaturally in the moonlight, finally showing a sign of his mixed blood. He wore simple white pajamas that made him appear as some sort of phantom. His face was, as earlier beautiful, but it seemed full of sorrow when he hummed his melody in the direction of the moon.

When Jinyoung asked him what he was doing here, he shuddered the instant Jaebum’s eyes fell on him. The black holes seemed dangerous to him, but at the same time too enthralling not to look into. Jaebum gave him a little half-smile.

“Did I wake you up?” there was no apology in his voice.

“How did you get here?”

Jaebum motioned to the balcony over his, but it was definitely too far away to jump safely from down there. He must have somehow sneaked in through Jinyoung’s room.

“Why are you here?”

“Are you afraid?” Jaebum asked instead, arrogant as expected.

“You know I can have you imprisoned if I think you’re a threat?” Jinyoung shot back only to hear Jaebum’s soft, melodic laugher.

“I swear I meant you no harm, don’t worry. The moon is my witness.”

“That’s some unreliable witness.”

“Just like a Moonblood?” Jaebum asked amused.

“Yes,” Jinyoung answered coldly.

Jaebum gazed back at the white orb. Jinyoung had read that Moonlight was the primary source of the Dal Salam’s power, so if Jaebum had any, he could certainly use them now.

“Do you hate those of Moonblood? They killed your father.”

Jinyoung didn’t answer right away. He had no reason to share his opinions on the matter with this strange man who seemed to be a vision, a ghost, almost shining in the cold light.

“Do you hate me?” Jaebum continued, leaving the handrail almost weightlessly, as if his body could float in the air, his bare feet making no sound when he approached Jinyoung, “you could recognize right away that I am a Dal Salam, but don’t I look like an ordinary human?”

“I wouldn’t trust a stranger, even if he was just a human,” Jinyoung answered irritated with this man’s teasing tone.

He didn’t like that Jaebum was so incredibly beautiful and had to act so mysteriously, it unsettled him. He would prefer him not to talk and leave his balcony, instead of luring him here with his strange voice.

“Well, I’m sorry for disrupting your sleep,” Jaebum said, climbing onto the handrail, “I will leave you to your dreams.”

Jinyoung watched in horror as Jaebum tipped back and almost fell off the handrail. His body moved before he thought about it, running towards him and catching him around the waist, tipping their bodies backward, landing painfully on the stone floor, with Jaebum over him.

Jaebum seemed shocked with this sudden course of action, looking down at Jinyoung with wonder from beneath the hair that fell down his face. He only blinked when Jinyoung turned them around so that Jaebum was beneath him.

Jaebum didn’t try to protect himself and just let Jinyoung look down at him with slightly open lips and amazed eyes.

“What are you doing?” Jinyoung asked infuriated, “want to kill yourself already?”

“Kill myself?” Jaebum asked astonished.

“This balcony is high up!”

Jaebum started to laugh at him.

“Did you just try to save my life?” he was smirking up at Jinyoung, as if he was the crazy one here, “well, thank you for the effort, but that wasn’t necessary.”

Jinyoung furrowed his brows. What was this lunatic talking about?

Jaebum started raising up, so he also stood, still confused about what the lunatic was talking about.

“Don’t be concerned,” Jaebum told him before he once again climbed onto the handrail, making Jinyoung’s heart beat faster, “the moon is shining.”

Without another word he fell down backward, his face unworried and his arms outstretched. Jinyoung looked on with panic as his body made its descent, but it didn’t really go as fast as it should. Jinyoung noticed that it was floating, and reached the earth slowly, Jaebum turning in mid-fall and landing lightly on his feet.

Now, Jinyoung was just embarrassed he tried to save this bastard's life. Especially when Jaebum arrogantly waved to let him know everything was all right.


	2. The mage’s hostage

It was very interesting to observe Jackson, but Jinyoung proved even more fascinating. From what Jaebum could tell, he never left the castle, rarely even left his room, except for mealtime. At one such occasion, Jaebum sneaked into his chamber and saw that it was full of books posed on every possible surface. There was a library in the castle, but Jinyoung seemed to have his own in there.

He looked at the titles and couldn’t see any connections between the books; some were novels, some fairytales, or collections of poems, but there were also encyclopedias, medical books, military strategies, gardening books. Some of them were opened and put upside down. Jaebum picked one about the Dal Salam up and laughed at the drawing that showed an almost angel-like creature.

Jaebum liked reading, it has been one of his father’s favourite past-times, but he couldn’t understand how Jinyoung could close himself in his room all day like that. He had spent little time in a cage, only for appearance's sake, but he found it very boring and he itched every night to walk through the vast gardens in Kim’s estate.

Jinyoung was certainly interested in him, in a suspicious, unfavorable way, but he did follow Jaebum with his eyes, his unwillingly dramatic reactions to meeting Jaebum’s gaze amusing. He wasn’t the one whose gaze Jaebum was supposed to catch, but thankfully, Jackson also seemed somehow captivated.

The king was not like Jaebum imagined him. In the first place, people knew little about his life before the Queen married him. He knew he was a fierce warrior, but it wasn’t the impression he gave when Jaebum dined with him. He was rather gentle in his ways, but also direct in a way aristocrats rarely were. There was a playfulness to him, certian humor that did not correspond to his status. Another thing Jaebum was taken aback by were his looks. He was much more handsome than Jaebum imagined he would be, after hearing a couple of times that pure-blooded humans were uglier from them. Both the king and the prince were proving that theory wrong. 

Getting information out of Jackson was difficult. The king didn’t talk about matters of state in front of Jaebum, and he much rather listened to what the other had to say. Of course, Jaebum wasn’t allowed to attend council meetings either, and he only managed to listen in on them a couple of times, and what he heard, either didn’t involve any useful news or he didn’t understand at all the things that were discussed.

The only thing that impressed Jaebum on the meeting was how different Jackson looked with the black crown on his head, suddenly regal and heavy, as if he was older than Jaebum by years. He talked with aggression to the cloaked figures of the council and the air of the room was almost sinister. 

***

At first, it was hard for Jaebum to get used to sleeping at night, and not by daytime. The sun was too hot, and he didn’t understand why humans would choose to live in it, instead of the pleasant white light of the moon. To be a part of their world, he had to get used to it. It was still very hard for him to wake up, and he was unable to go out at noon when the sun shined most brightly, but by evening he was fine, so he could spend the valuable dinner time clear-headed.

Still, he went to bed late, and he slept lightly so when the nightingale birdcall sounded he woke up and he followed it to outside of the palace, the garden suddenly disappearing in complete darkness. Jaebum wasn’t spooked by the sudden arrival of blue lines of light and a figure in their centre, only because he expected Bambam to arrive. The mage’s bright blue eyes and white hair reflected the blinding light and made it hard to look straight at him.

“Kim Jaebum,” he started, his eyes unblinking, “how goes your mission?”

“Before I tell you anything,” Jaebum answered, barely holding his aggression at bay, “I want to know about Yugyeom.”

“Your brother is fine, he lacks for nothing in my house.”

“How kind of you to treat a prisoner as a guest,” Jaebum spat out.

“If your family was more cooperative, I wouldn’t have had to,” Bambam answered, unimpressed by Jaebum’s anger, “did you find the Moonstone?”

“The king keeps his secrets well.”

“And the prince?”

“I don’t think he knows anything. I will try to get it out of Jackson.”

“You will not _try_. The safety of your brother, of our kind, depends on your abilities. You better not tarry. The war will come, whether you like it or not, and if the Moonstone’s on the other side, we will lose. You think you can hide because you look human? They will not accept you as their own, and even if they do, they will certainly not be as kind to Yugyeom.”

“I heard all of that already. I’m working on it.”

Bambam looked at him with thinly veiled disbelief and extended his hand. In it was a bottle with black liquid.

“Once you find out the whereabouts of the stone, poison the king. The sudden disruption can help us win.”

Jaebum took the bottle, forcing his hand not to tremble.

“It will work better if applied to the bloodstream.”

With those words and flashing lights Bambam was gone, Jaebum once again in the garden. He observed the bottle with trepidation. His mother and father would not have approved of this, but their family was already much at risk when they refused to choose sides before. Now that Bambam had Yugyeom, Jaebum had no choice but to obey.


	3. The children of Dal

_A long time ago in Tsagaan City, a small part of the moon fell right into the middle of the temple. Instead of killing everybody, the whole city became transformed, all the people in it changed with the explosion: their skin turning pale, their eyes turning blue and their hair whitening. The mutation also gave them the ability to use magic. The closer they were to the explosion, the more powerful they became, and so the seven priests that were inside obtained the most power. They were the ones that saw the piece of white stone turn into a woman. This woman was called Dal, and they hailed her as their ruler, along with Yibo, one of the priests who became her Ling Yiban, while the other six helped her establish the country. She ruled peacefully for a hundred years, never growing old, while her children and grandchildren lead the Dal Salam. At the time, the Liao refugees reached the island, but they settled by the sea, far away from the kingdom of Dal. Everything was going smoothly until the winds attacked the kingdom. For a long time, Dal kept the winds away from destroying the city with her magic. She and her people were too proud to leave the city in time, and when all her strength failed her, with the last bit of her magic, she reached out to all those around her, seizing them in a spell that transported them to the coast, where she knew the humans were and would be able to help her nation. When her people looked around, instead of Dal, they saw a big white orb, and the Bhuwakul clan, which descended from Intira, one of the original priests that also happened to be the sister of Yibo, swore to take care of their Moonstone, as they called her, until such a time would come Dal would return to them. Meanwhile, the descendants of Dal set up their own country, right next to the rejects of the Liao nation - that called themselves Arulat after their first leader. The relationship was a beneficial one as –“_

“I thought the council banned all the books about the Dal Salam.” Youngjae said, entering uninvited through Jinyoung’s window.

“I found it in my mother’s room that night.” Jinyoung answered, motioning for Youngjae to sit, “I’m pretty sure it was written down by some Bhuwakul loyalist, there is a lot about them, while only one word about the Tuan clan.”

“So, the Moonstone is actually a woman that fell from the moon?” Youngjae said, going to him and leaning over his shoulder to look at the picture of a white-haired, beautiful lady with a sad face, “why are her eyes green?”

“I don’t know, but she’s drawn like that throughout the whole book. Anyway, it’s only a legend.”

“But you believe the Moonstone is real?”

“I know it’s real, though it’s most likely just a magical object that had legends made around it. My father wouldn’t have lied to me about it.”

“Again, how do you know we have it, and not the Dal Salam?”

“I told you, I overheard my father and Lim Kijung arguing about it.”

“He could have lied.” Youngjae stubbornly repeated.

“He was a diplomat and a human, why would he lie about it? I believe my father’s death to be enough of a proof, not to mention the demise of almost all of Bhuwakul and Kim clans.”

“I still think it was somehow planned by the Tuans. Maybe they have the stone.” 

“No, I’m sure it’s not them. How do you explain that when you stabbed that council member, he came back to life? You don’t have to think about it, just do what I asked you to.”

Youngjae looked at him dispassionately.

“Did you learn anything?” Jinyoung asked him, posing the book on his desk.

“The mixed-race you had me watch is definitely up to something. He’s been snooping around the castle and last night, he actually disappeared for a while, and then reappeared in the garden.”

Jinyoung fell silent. He suspected that Jaebum wasn’t here without reason, but it was worrying that he could disappear like that.

“Do you want me to kill him?” Youngjae asked at his musings.

“No, he’s probably looking for the Moonstone. Maybe he will lead us to it.”

“From what I saw, he’s trying to get it out of Jackson. But you said the king didn’t know.”

“I’m not sure, he might know. If Jaebum manages to learn it from him, we could work it to our advantage.”

“As you wish,” Youngjae replied, clearly not very convinced.

“Stop following Jaebum and go back to looking for the stone.” Jinyoung commanded, “I will observe him myself.”

“Are you sure? What if he’s dangerous?”

“I will deal with him. It would be better if we find the stone before him.”

Youngjae nodded his head before departing through his window once again.

***

Jinyoung focused on observing Jaebum and he found it a truly exasperating task. In the first place, it forced him to go around the castle, and Jaebum seemed to just love walking around, he strode through the gardens, the castle, everywhere, constantly. The staff didn’t know he was a half-blood, if they did, they would not treat him quite this kindly. He suspected Jackson hid it from the council as well, otherwise, they would have probably gotten rid of Jaebum by now. As it was, all those servants seemed enamored by Jaebum’s pretty smile and melodic voice. They treated him with respect as he introduced himself with the surname Lim, and they couldn’t have known he was the son of the one Lim who had been disowned. Jaebum didn’t treat people as if they were somehow lower than him, but with a natural sense of companionship, and the servants overlooked that he was dressed in clothes from the royal wardrobe and belonged to a noble family, repaying him with friendliness. Jinyoung never felt like that among them, he was never that comfortable with people, and he was annoyed that those in his castle would probably never say a nice word about him without being forced to. For them, he was just the weird, introverted prince. He shouldn’t really care about the opinion of these shallow people, he bet all of them would sing praises about Jaebum now, but throw stones at him if they found out about his Moonblood.

Everything about Jaebum just got on his nerves. The most irritating was to see him follow Jackson around like a puppy, smile at him in way that made his thin eyes look closed. Jinyoung still wasn’t used to how captivating Jaebum’s gestures were, or how sweet his laugher sounded, and it was even more visible when he was talking with the king. Jackson’s interest in him was evident, though as far as Jinyoung knew from listening in on the maids’ conversation, it was not that hard to capture his attention.

Jinyoung was not quite as stealthy as Youngjae, and he was sure Jaebum knew he followed him around. Anyway, it was better, maybe he would feel less inclined to try something under Jinyoung’s supervision. Though Jaebum was great at giving an impression of doing nothing at all, laying on the grass in the gardens, his arm thrown across his face.

“Looking for me, your majesty?” he spoke up suddenly, without uncovering his eyes.

“You will get sunburned if you rest here too long.”

The corner of Jeabum’s lips raised.

“I never got sunburnt before,” he took his arm away to squint up at Jinyoung, “worried about me? You don’t look like you get much of the sun, either. One could think you’re of Moonblood yourself.”

Jinyoung fought with himself over sitting down on the grass, but he could always just throw these clothes out, so he rested some steps away from Jaebum, who turned around to his stomach, resting on his elbows, so that the sun didn’t shine directly into his eyes while he looked at him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Jaebum asked in his taunting voice, but he wasn’t unfriendly, however coldly Jinyoung treated him.

“There’s a word in Dalhyo that I’ve been wondering about.”

“Sudden interest in their culture? Your people seem to know very little about it, even though the Arulat and Dal Salam coexisted for centuries.”

“The resources on the Dal Salam were restricted even before I was born,” Jinyoung explained, though compared to the general public, he still knew more about them.

“I will help if I can. What’s the word?”

“It’s ‘Ling Yiban’ _._ Do you know it?”

Jaebum laughed airily.

“Yes, I do. Where did you hear it?”

“Just an old book.”

“Well, I guess there’s no exact translation. You could say it’s like husband or wife.”

“I thought the Dal Salam don’t have marriages?” Jinyoung said, fascinated by the unknown material.

“You’re right, we don’t. Usually, the Dal Salam have more than one partner throughout their lifetime. But sometimes they decide to be with each other till death, and that’s what we call ‘Ling Yiban.’ There is a binding ceremony, though it’s not exactly like human marriage, and it’s not officiated in any way.”

“Weren’t your parents like that? Your father left his country and family to be with your mother.”

“While I like to believe my parents were planning to stay together till they grew old, they can’t be called each other’s ‘Ling Yiban’. It’s only when you vow to be with someone and not be with others, and my mother was also with Yugyeom’s father, while he himself had another woman and two other children that don’t belong to the Kim clan. It’s not that often that someone decides to be bonded. The Dal Salam believe only people predestinated to be together are supposed to promise themselves to each other. It’s a bit like the human concept of love at first sight, just that you don’t fall in love, but rather, you recognize the soul that’s connected to yours by fate.” 

Jinyoung hummed in deliberation. 

“If you don’t have marriages how do the surnames get transferred?”

“Well, it’s different depending on if it’s one of the six old families or not. With humans, your names travel with the male line, and the wife takes on the name of the husband. I was really surprised when my father explained it to me because it just makes more sense for a child to have its mother’s name, you can’t actually be sure of the paternity, and especially if the mother had more than one lover. But it’s different in case of nobility, all the children, whether male or female, pass the surname down to their descendants. And even if you don’t have the surname, you can still belong to the clan, for example, the partners of the family members that are recognized by the head of the clan can belong to it. In the case of human marriages, you can adopt a child and give it your name, but it’s very rarely done in noble Dal Salam families, to keep the original bloodline unchanged. Even though adopted children are part of the clan, they don’t carry the surname. Only in very rare cases, for example, if two people of the same gender are bonded and take in a child and the head of the family agrees to it, may the child take on the noble’s name. But it never happens in the main line.”

“How does the main line work?” Jinyoung asked, unwittingly drawing closer, intrigued by all the new information.

“Well, by the main line, the head of the clan is decided. It’s usually the eldest daughter of the previous head, and if there are no daughters, it’s the eldest son. For example, even though there are other living members of the Kim house, Yugyeom is the head of the clan, because our mother was the previous one.”

“But aren’t you her eldest child?”

Jaebum blinked with bewilderment.

“I’m a half-blood,” he said in a stilted voice.

“So are mixed-bloods not allowed to carry the family name?”

Jaebum bit his lip and Jinyoung tried very hard to unsee the soft flesh coloring under the pressure.

“That depends on the family. If the head of the clan decides they can, the decision is respected by other clans. But as the head of Kim is Yugyeom …”

Jaebum’s eyes broke their contact with Jinyoung’s and he decided to let that topic go. He fell heavily back on the grass with a sigh.

“It all sounds very complicated.”

“Does it? If anything it’s harder for me to get used to human ways. The Dal Salam lived like this for centuries, so it’s pretty clear how the succession goes.”

Jinyoung became silent in contemplation. He knew about the old families and their heirs but it still seemed muddled to him.

“Wait, I guess in that case if two members of noble families have a child, its surname is whoever’s position is higher? But what if both the parents are of the main family?”

“Well, then the name would usually be that of the mother’s family, though there are exceptions. There’s a very well known one between the two most rigid families, the Bhuwakul and the Tuan. Do you know the Mage, Bambam? His grandmother was actually the head of the Tuan clan, but her only daughter wore the Bhuwakul surname, so the next Tuan head was the daughter of her brother. But that’s because the Bhuwakuls are the most purity obsessed bloodline. Even in the noble families, it’s very rare not to have human blood, especially from the years before, when the kingdoms cooperated. But there hasn’t been a single recorded dark-haired Bhuwakul, not to anyone’s knowledge. But because of that their line has diminished in numbers, and the only living member of the main family is Bambam, who was raised by the Tuan family, never even knowing his parents.”

“You seem to know a lot about it.”

“Not really, this is general knowledge among the Dal Salam,” Jaebum answered standing up from the grass, “let’s go back, it’s almost time for dinner.”

Jinyoung was stunned that they talked for so long as he followed Jaebum into the castle. He would have liked to hear even more about the Dal Salam from him, but he couldn’t really be sure what the half-blood said would be true. 


	4. The childhood friend

Yugyeom once again stared at the blue streaks of light in the sky that caged the whole of Bambam’s estate. He whistled and a small canary flew in his direction, sitting on his palm. He patted its head slightly, speaking a few words to it and letting it go, but before the bird could reach the cage, the sky became dark and a lightning bolt hit it, the sound of the explosion deafening.

Yugyeom turned around to see Bambam’s exasperated expression.

“Are you going to kill all the birds in my garden?” Bambam spoke.

Yugyeom smiled at him, baring his teeth.

“Not if you let me go.”

“Once your brother finds the Moonstone, you will be free,” Bambam answered, unamused.

Yugyeom was not being mistreated, but the fact that Bambam even dared to imprison the head of another clan got on his nerves. The Bhuwakul really thought they were better than anyone else, even though they weren’t actual direct descendants of the royal line, and now, Bambam wasn’t even the leader, the position taken from his family when he was a child. Whatever conflict there was between him and the Tuan clan, and between him and the whole of Arulat, Yugyeom was not willing to be part of his battle against the world. Not only was he keeping him here, but he had the audacity to force Jaebum into mortal danger. He only hoped his brother managed to escape it somehow, but he knew Jaebum would never let him rot here.

In the current situation, Yugyeom had no other choice than to try to get out of this prison. He was sure, however strong Bambam’s magic was, if one of his explosives touched the light cage, it would destroy it. But the Mage didn’t even have to be here for the bolts of lightning to activate, once his spell was in place, so right now Yugyeom was losing this struggle against the magical trappings. He supposed he should be glad one of those lightning strikes didn’t try to hit him, he saw how much damage Bambam could wreck, destroying an entire fleet, those lucky few not dying of electrocution, fire, or being squashed by masts, having to escape into water. Bambam was not given the title of the Mage simply because of his surname, and in a fair fight, Yugyeom had little chance against him.

Walking through the long, empty corridors of the Bhuwakul estate was always unsettling. Bambam kept very little servants here, spending most of his time at the Palace anyway. The black marble walls were so different from the light-stoned ones in Kim’s main house, even though black was the color traditionally used by the Kim family. But they limited themselves to wearing black clothes, buying mostly black animals, having black accents in their house, instead of making their whole manor as gloomy and dark as this one.

Even the giant dining table was made from black marble, with the tablecloth in deep, dark red, the same colour as the curtains and the wine they sipped. The brightest thing in this room was Bambam’s hair, the moonlight that fell from the long windows reflecting from it.

Yugyeom was prepared to silently eat the, unfortunately delicious, roast so that they wouldn’t end up arguing over dinner again, but Bambam just had to talk. 

“Remember when we first met?”

“We were children, Bam,” Yugyeom said miserably. Of course, he remembered. How could he forget meeting his earliest friend?

“You were the first child close to my age I’ve met that was not my cousin. They always laughed at me because I was small and bony. But not you.”

Yugyeom didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to remember how his own relatives liked to ridicule him for his immoderate height and clumsiness. Usually, Jaebum threatened to beat them up for it, but Jaebum was kept away for meetings like that, where all of the six main families gathered. 

“You saw I was sad and you suddenly started to hiss. I was so stunned I stopped crying by that point, but then I saw what you were doing when a small, white snake slithered from a hole in the ground. And you said –“

“Yes, I said other snakes were probably jealous of it because it’s the most beautiful. I remember, you really don’t have to bring my embarrassing memories back.”

Bambam looked at him, his big eyes beseeching.

“You had the guts to stand against the Tuans for me then. Why can’t you do it now?”

“Bam, those were childhood plays. It wasn’t a struggle for power.”

“Your mother and Lord Kijung opposed the Tuans.”

“Yes, and they would have opposed you, too. I live by their rules, and I will do everything to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“My parents were killed by humans,” Bambam spat out with cold fury, “your parents died because of them as well. How did their values protect them?”

“You can’t blame the entirety of Arulat for that!”

“Why not? You think you know humans because you loved Lord Kijung, but he was exceptional. You can’t even imagine what most of them would do if they saw a glimpse of your blue eyes.”

“They are being manipulated! I understand that you want to fight the ones in power, but you can’t just drive them all out of here!”

“We were here first, this is our land,” Bambam answered haughtily, “there is a point where people cannot be excused for following. They dared to steal Dal from us. They _butchered_ my clan,” Bambam’s lips contorted in pain, “and you want me to do nothing?”

“Not nothing,” Yugyeom softened his voice, his chest heavy with watching Bambam’s despair, “there are diplomatic ways and there are modes of coercion. You have cut off all their trade routes, destroyed their crops, surely they cannot continue much longer without it.”

“Those pests would let all their people starve before agreeing to give us back the Moonstone because of that.”

Yugyeom sighed.

“In the world you envision there is no place for Jaebum,” he told Bambam’s tense form.

“No, your brother is one of us. He is of Moonblood.”

“Because he has gifts? What about those who don’t have powers or blue eyes? You wouldn’t even be able to recognize them.”

“Those who accept subjugation would be welcomed, even if they were not our race.”

“You can’t just force our culture on them!”

“Yugyeom! They want to wipe us out! I am merciful by their standards,” Bambam was now red with anger, “there is so much more of them, then there is of us. They don’t even have to do anything, if we don’t get the Moonstone back our race will just die out naturally, and those few of us that are left will be trampled by the masses. Soon, they will devour the whole island! Why do you not see how important this is?” 

“I want to get the Moonstone back, but why did you have to send my brother to get it? Is it not enough that my mother is dead, that the man who was like a father to me was killed? Do you want me to lose the last person I love?”

Bambam took in a heavy breath. All their fights were repeating themselves and Yugyeom knew what he would say next.

“Jaebum’s human appearance is an advantage that is invaluable in this task. Besides, his powers are right for the job. I chose him because I believe he can do it.”

“If Jaebum dies because of this, I swear I’ll find a way to kill you,” Yugyeom threw out.

“Any of us should gladly lay down their lives if it means getting Dal back,” Bambam answered, unmoved by the threat, “but if that does happen, just make sure to also destroy the people who really caused his death.”


	5. The orphan King

Jackson walked these marble floors and passed the golden statues with the usual repulsion. Damn nobles, they had to build their homes with the most exquisite materials while families were starving, have been famished and dying for generations. As if beauty was a good enough excuse for death, for pain.

At the same time, Jackson was happy he was no longer among those bleeding out on the streets, but surrounded by cursed treasures. An abandoned child from the slums becoming the king of this country only thanks to his looks, that took some crazy luck.

Though being the king wasn’t really what he wanted. He would much rather change with Jinyoung, who could do literally nothing all day. Although Jinyoung would hardly care about those unlucky ones that were still hungry, he was his father’s son after all. He did not understand hunger, could not imagine what it’s like to sell one’s body for a piece of bread. Jackson knew, and he did what he could to help those like him, born parentless, thrown out of homes, taking on shameful jobs to survive.

After the queen picked him up in the brothel when he was fifteen, he never would have predicted it would end up with this crown on his head. He didn’t even know she was the queen then, he just took her for another thirsty aristocrat. And though she was no more merciful than her first husband, he did like her. Her death had stripped him of any support in the council and it was getting harder and harder to win against them in any matter, especially when they wanted to start the war so much.

While he used his prior actions as leverage against them, consequently being able to utilize what little authority he had to help the streets, he never took anyone in before. He made sure to keep a certain distance from those he pitied.

But this man, Jaebum, he was just too interesting to leave like that. It wasn’t pity, exactly, that made Jackson take him in. It was that he rarely met those of his own kind that lived across the border.

There had been half-blood children in the brothel, and they had been selling very well before the king died. Those unfortunate enough to be born with light eyes were very popular, but anyone of their race was alluring. Jackson looked normal, so he never told anyone of his heritage that was probably the reason he was an orphan in the first place. Even before they were openly enemies, relationships between the races weren’t widely accepted in Arulat. Children from such unions were often found dead in the wells. Death was maybe more compassionate than the fate that met the ones thrown out of homes.

Jaebum didn’t know such cruelty, the caged bird that he was, born outside the border. He had been truly lucky, to have been raised there, even if Yugyeom had been harsh to him for the past couple of years. But from what Jackson could see, he couldn’t have been that mistreated, his body was strong and healthy, not one of someone starved. Imprisonment was hardly the worst thing a person could experience.

That's why he didn’t pity Jaebum, though he played it like he did, in front of both Jaebum and Jinyoung. To let either one know about what he was would have been dangerous. Jackson was fascinated to learn about the other side from Jaebum, but he contained his questions, for the time being, making Jaebum feel comfortable in his presence, the benevolent king. Jinyoung seemed irritated with Jackson’s lack of suspicion, but really, what could that pretty boy do to him?

His Moonblood gave him problems most of his life, but there was one upside, that has saved him a million times – his body could become hard as stone if he so wished. Even if he was attacked with a knife, being killed was out of the question. That ability had proved really useful when the Queen taught him to use the sword, and he became almost unbeatable in a fight. Of course, he had to kill anyone who saw him use it, and those that did never got to see another sunrise. 

***

Jackson knew Jaebum was following him, but instead of trying to lose him in the crowd, he feigned ignorance. He was curious to see Jaebum react to places he frequented. Once he reached the orphanage, he could watch with amusement as Jaebum got surrounded by the children, seeming completely at a loss.

“Can I help you?” he approached the man, leaving his hiding place.

Jaebum startled, while the children besieged Jackson, waiting for the usual trinkets. The moment he put the sack on the floor, they started dismantling it, no longer paying either of them any attention. Even though everything in here, and the building in itself, was funded by the crown, he liked to bring them presents himself, they were his subjects after all. Even though, when he told them he was the king, they thought he was joking. 

“What is this place?” Jaebum asked him, apparently spooked by the amount of loud youngsters around him.

“An orphanage. I guess you have never been in one.”

“What is an orphanage?”

Jackson snorted. Jaebum must really have been kept in the dark about a lot of things.

“A place where parentless children live,” he answered with a laugh, but Jaebum’s face became suddenly distressed.

“So it’s true?” he said in a disillusioned tone, “humans really abandon their children?”

“What do you mean ‘humans’? Surely, there are orphans among the Dal Salam? Maybe you’ve just never seen one.”

There was a sudden ferocity to Jaebum’s gaze.

“How could a Dal Salam reject someone of his blood? Even more so, a child whose parents are dead? Children are a blessing.”

“What about the half-bloods? Yugyeom did lock you up.”

“Even Yugyeom wouldn’t –“ Jaebum started with passion but seemed to remember himself, “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Jackson was too intrigued now about the whole matter to let it go.

“Is it true? There are no orphans among the Dal Salam?”

“Children are rare, there is no way they would be abandoned.”

“Rare? Why are they rare?”

While Jackson knew that there was a lot less Dal Salam that humans, he never quite understood the reason for it. Jaebum repaid him by looking at him as if he was foolish.

“Don’t you know? The climate has become too warm for those of Moonblood. Many pure-blood children die at birth.”

Jackson didn’t know that. There were a lot of inconsistencies in human knowledge about the Dal Salam, and it was hard to guess what was right.

“Do the half-bloods have bigger chances of survival?”

“Yes, but many don’t have any abilities, and like me, don’t even look like the Dal Salam. I am practically a human.”

Jackson himself could blend in with humans just as well, but he still had powers. Why hadn’t his Moonblood parent taken him with them to the kingdom of Dal? If children were important to them, why had he been abandoned? Because his eyes weren’t blue and he had darker skin? Jaebum’s eyes and hair were completely black and they still kept him. How unfair.

Perhaps it was cruel of him to take Jaebum to his next stop, but Jackson had a feeling he could learn more from him if he was under the influence of stronger emotions. It certainly wouldn’t help with his, already diminishing, good opinion of humans, but in a way, Jackson wanted Jaebum to understand what it was like in Arulat and impress upon him the danger he was in.

Jaebum followed obediently into a basement of an abandoned building with zero caution. Jackson led him to a big room where the children slept. Right away, it was visible that the atmosphere here was different from the orphanage, the dark figures of the children sitting in corners, not raising from their places at their arrival.

He looked back at Jaebum who stood petrified behind him, staring at the scene with open lips.

“What happened to their eyes? Why are they …” Jaebum swallowed loudly, his face contorting with unspoken words.

It was probably hard to even look at the empty eye sockets of most of the children, though Jackson was used to it at this point.

“Blue eyes,” he replied simply and saw Jaebum lift his trembling hand to cover his mouth in horror, “most people believe that if children of Moonblood are blinded, they cannot use their powers. Instead of feeling guilty about killing small kids in the purge, they preferred to mutilate them. Of course, they would have probably died anyway in the streets, so some were merciful enough to end their suffering.”

“What happened to the older ones? What happened to the adults?” Jaebum got out in a broken voice.

“Most of them were killed while trying to cross the border. Those unlucky enough to be born with bright eyes or hair were probably killed by their neighbours or the guards, even before that. Those like you mostly hid their identity, and as long as no one witnessed them using their powers, or trying to leave the country, they could survive.”

“Why not let them leave the country? The Dal Salam would –“

“Do you think the council would really let the Dal Salam obtain more soldiers in that way? They’re not that reckless.”

Jaebum’s whole body was shaking in silent rage.

“They didn’t even have to be half-bloods,” he got out through gritted teeth, “you can be born with blue eyes after _generations_ , with only a little bit of Moonblood in your veins. Most people were mixed at one point or another.”

“The people don’t care,” Jackson said with pity.

“How could you have let this happen! You’re the king!” Jaebum turned on him, his eyes sharp and accusatory.

“I wasn’t the king when the purge started. Do you think it’s me that ordered the guards to stand on the border and kill those who try to pass it? I’m just a figurehead, the council can get rid of me any moment if I don’t do what they tell me to. It’s not my fault, Jaebum, and I do not have the power to stop it.”

Those were the lies that Jackson liked to tell himself, but he never believed them. He knew that all of this, the whole purge, was on him, and he felt the guilt weighting his shoulders down every day. Of all his sins, this was the worst one.

Jaebum couldn’t answer him, visibly holding back tears, his throat constricted. Jackson looked away from him when he noticed the figure of a woman approaching them.

“Jackson!” she ran to him, once she recognized her old friend from the brothel, her arms encircling his shoulders in a tight hug, “it’s been so long since your last visit!”

He moved her slightly back, looking into her big amber eyes.

“Mina, you have to dye your hair again, the lighter ones are starting to grow back.”

“I haven’t been going out recently. I’ll do it as soon as I can.”

“Do you have enough of everything? Food, clothes, medicine, the supplies coming on time? Is anyone sick?”

They continued their conversation with Jackson checking on Jaebum’s mute shaking figure from time to time.

***

“Missing your cage yet?” Jackson asked, looking on as Jaebum nibbled on the meal Jackson bought them in a cheap tavern.

“I didn’t know it was like that here,” Jaebum replied, his eyes emotionless, “my father told me about the conflict between the races, but not something like this.”

“Lord Lim knew the situation before the king’s assassination. He never got to see the purge, and those things are generally kept out of the Dal Salam’s knowledge.”

Jaebum dropped the barely-eaten bread on the plate and rested his back on the chair.

“My mother taught me that merchants who cross the sea to Liao have seen all kinds of people. That there are those with yellow hair, big bright eyes, and pinkish skin. That if you travel far up north all the people look that way and it's not magic that dyed their hair and eyes, they were all just born that way. Similarly, if you go east, the people’s skin gets darker, and the clothes they wear are made from completely unique materials, and the humans there believe the Sun to be the only true god. She said that if you cross the Great Ocean, you will meet people with ebony skin and frizzy hair. And none of those things are the results of magic, people are just born different,” Jaebum’s lips turned downward, “so why does the fact that somebody has blue eyes make people dig them out?”

It all sounded like a fairytale to Jackson, that there existed all these strange people, but the truth was, he knew very little of the world outside the island. One thing he did know, was that it was definitely more practical for the council to keep their people isolated and misinformed.

Jaebum’s despair was evident, his eyes full of sorrow when he said: “the two nations used to live peacefully side by side, just a few years ago. How did it become like this?”

Jackson pitied this sweet, naïve creature with all his heart.

“There is nothing that spreads faster than hate.” 


	6. Birdsong

Jinyoung got startled out of reading his book by a loud crash. He looked in the direction of his broken window and saw that there was a body of a small, white bird, all bloodied, lying among the glass shards. The tiny bird must have collided with the window very powerfully to break it in this way.

He stared at the creature with disgust. The very thought of having something dead in his room made him want to throw up. He couldn’t bear the sight of blood, not since he witnessed his mother’s throat cut open, her body and clothes covered in the liquid. He remembered everything, the sounds she made, the life leaving her body as it became nothing more than a sack of bones and muscles and fat. No matter how hard he tried, that image never left his mind and the bird was bringing it to the forefront of his thoughts. What was worse, he saw the body move a bit, so it wasn’t even entirely dead.

He could envision approaching the bird and squeezing it under his shoe until it stopped moving, but it disgusted him even more. He meant to call a servant to clean the mess up when his doors opened and Jaebum stepped through.

Jaebum usually did not see the need for the basic decency of knocking, but Jinyoung wasn’t used to him coming through the door and not floating over through the balcony, though he supposed Jaebum couldn’t do it in daylight.

“What happened? I heard a crash,” Jaebum asked but didn’t wait to hear the answer when he saw the white bird.

He went to the windows without hesitance, taking the body into his hands, uncaring that the blood-stained the white cuffs of his satin shirt. Jinyoung looked on, horrified and fascinated, from the safety of his bed. His mother also wore a white shirt that day, in a similar style to Jaebum. She never saw the need for dressing up properly in her own house.

“Poor thing,” Jaebum said to the bird, running his fingers down its small body, “let’s see if we can still save you.”

Jaebum left his room without another word and Jinyoung fought with himself before standing up to follow him, telling the guard on his way to find someone to clear the glass in his room.

Jaebum went all the way down to the kitchens and Jinyoung hid behind a corner. The kitchen staff would be spooked if they saw him, in contrast to Jaebum he didn’t have the ease in making friends and most of them knew him only from a distance.

“Miran!” Jaebum called and an older woman answered, “Miran, do you think it can pull through?” He showed her the bird and Miran furrowed her brows.

“Don’t bring bloody animals into the kitchen, Jaebum!”

“Come on, Miran, it flew through the window. It’s still breathing.”

“I can end it’s suffering, but not here.”

“Can’t we do something for it?” Jaebum asked with regret and Jinyoung felt compelled to speak up.

“Show it to me,” he said, leaving his corner and scaring the kitchen hands, though Miran wasn’t quite as intimidated, as she was a good deal older than him, working in the royal kitchens before he even existed.

Jinyoung had read a lot of medical books, but he was not a specialist. One look could reveal the bird had a broken wing and he told Jaebum to wash and bandage its cuts, and when the bird was no longer bloodied, Jinyoung wasn’t quite as disgusted to touch it. They found a stick and stabilized the wings with it and Jinyoung told a servant to find him a birdcage. His father had kept parrots, so there were a couple of golden cages in the palace and somehow, one ended up in Jinyoung’s room with its new occupant.

Jinyoung wasn’t sure the bird would survive, but Jaebum spent a lot of time looking after it, feeding it, and worrying beside its cage. Jinyoung had limited himself to going across the palace to the library and finding information about proper care over it, passing the knowledge on to him. The bird started treating Jaebum as if he was its mother and was unhesitant in walking over his arms and hands. Jaebum would take it over to Jinyoung, sitting on his bed uninvited and shoving the bird in his space, Jinyoung looking on unimpressed as Jaebum explained to the bird how the prince was its savior and that it should be thankful. He was sure there was something deeply wrong with Jaebum’s head, but it wasn’t clear if it was because of being raised in a different culture, spending time imprisoned, or if he was just born this way.

Additionally, it meant Jaebum spent a lot of time in Jinyoung’s room. At first, it annoyed him, though he didn’t want to look after the bird himself. It also made the task of observing Jaebum much easier. Really, if Jaebum was a spy, he surely was the worst of the lot. Sitting in Jinyoung’s room did not bring him any closer to finding the Moonstone. Unless he thought the prince knew where it was, it made absolutely no sense to sit there with him. It also made Jinyoung uncomfortably used to his presence, strange as it seemed. Jaebum treated him almost as if they were friends and that was a completely new experience. Jinyoung never had a friend, not unless he counted Youngjae. He wasn’t sure Youngjae would call him a that, even though he spoke informally with him, Jinyoung was still his master. Jaebum liked to tease him, and he liked to ask Jinyoung about his books, or about the kingdom, and Jinyoung answered him if he felt like it. He didn’t want to be welcoming to the suspicious mixed-blood, but there was something exciting about having someone to talk to. Jinyoung had always considered other people quite boring, but there was nothing dull about Jaebum. 

Jaebum didn’t always talk with him, especially after Jinyoung made noncommittal grunts in answer to his questions, but he wasn’t quiet either. He loved to whistle, and hum, and sing to the bird. He had a beautiful, unique voice, but there was something that unnerved Jinyoung about it. When Jaebum sang, Jinyoung couldn’t focus on his book, holding it without turning the pages. Sometimes, he found he fell asleep, lulled by Jaebum’s melodies, and the dreams he had were odd. Often, he dreamed of being on a vessel, almost feeling the breeze on his face, going to a faraway land, finding himself in a busy marketplace, colorful and loud and filled with mixed smells. Sometimes, he dreamt of blue-eyed people, but they were not attacking him, rather, they sat by a long table in a palace grander than his own, sharing delicious and expensive foods: meats, fruits, shellfish, sometimes things Jinyoung only read about but never tested.

There were times he dreamt of Jaebum, his beautiful smile, and deep eyes, his skin glistening in the moonlight as he took Jinyoung’s hand and lead him through an unfamiliar garden, black birds flying over their heads. He always woke up before they managed to reach the end of the winding path.

One time, he woke up with tears in his eyes, seeing his sadness reflected in Jaebum’s face. He had dreamt about a beautiful lady, with long, white hair and emerald eyes. She put her delicate white hand on Jinyoung’s cheek but then the wind had risen and taken her away. Jinyoung was fairly sure she was Dal, but why he saw her, he didn’t know. He had an inkling Jaebum had his hand in this, though the only power Jinyoung saw him use was floating, and it only ever happened in moonlight, whereas Jinyoung often dreamt in the daytime.

But if it was some kind of spell Jaebum cast on him, Jinyoung was almost thankful. Previously, he only had nightmares, his imagination overflowing with the blood of his parents.

Jaebum sang in their language, as well as in Dalhyo, its strange sounds unfamiliar to Jinyoung’s ears. He seemed to have no problem with switching between the two and it made Jinyoung curious enough to ask him about it.

“Everyone in Dal can speak both,” Jaebum answered, looking over to him from the armchair next to the cage, “I’m sure some of the older humans can still speak Dalhyo.”

Jinyoung’s grandfather could speak it, from what he had heard, but his father never had the patience to learn it. Of course, when Jinyoung was a child, nobody was allowed to learn it anymore, with the restrictions that the council imposed.

“Do the Dal Salam speak between themselves in Liao too? Or do they use it only with humans?”

It made sense that Jaebum spoke Liao like a native, after all, his father was from Arulat, but Jinyoung hadn’t met enough of the Dal Salam to be able to tell if they all had such ability. The nobles certainly did, at least those he saw on the day of his father’s assassination.

“No, we use it interchangeably. At some point in history, Liao became very widespread, and maybe because it’s somehow easier than Dalhyo, the Dal Salam started using it on par with their own language. There are many words in Liao that never obtained a Dalhyo counterpart, especially in commerce. I guess they could have passed completely into using only Liao, but teaching the children Dalhyo is part of tradition and the Dal Salam pride. There are situations one is expected to use Dalhyo, but it is mostly up to someone’s preference. I often heard conversations being carried in both at once,” Jaebum grinned, “from what I can tell, the Dal Salam speak Liao exactly in the same way the people in Arulat speak it, but it sounds different in the Kingdom of Liao.”

Jinyoung almost jumped up.

“You’ve been to Liao?” he asked in a raised voice.

“Hm? Ah, no, I haven’t. I’ve only heard about it. The Kim family handles most of the sea trade.”

Jinyoung calmed himself down. He would have been so envious of Jaebum for having seen Liao.

A sudden memory of his dream hit him. The sea, the unfamiliar market. Maybe what he imagined was the Kingdom of Liao? But he left those theories for later, it was always better to ask Jaebum about things right away before he decided he wouldn’t share it with Jinyoung.

“How about books?” he asked, ready to remember every word that fell from Jaebum’s lips.

Jaebum laughed, glancing at the piles of Jinyoung’s tomes.

“We do have them,” he teased.

“No,” Jinyoung clarified irritated, “I meant, are they in Dalhyo or Liao?”

“The ones written by the Dal Salam are mostly in Dalhyo, but we have many books from Arulat and some from overseas. Business documents are almost always in Liao, but things like population censuses are in Dalhyo,” Jaebum added, “the library in the Kim house was full of all sorts of books in both languages.”

Jinyoung could imagine it, all the knowledge that he could never possess. It infuriated him that the council got rid of half of the royal library, perhaps more than the other things they had done.

“Did your father speak Dalhyo before he moved to Dal?” Jinyoung suddenly remembered. He was sure lord Kijung knew the language.

“No, he learned it after. It took him some time to master it, by the time I was six, he still had problems with pronouncing some words I spoke normally, but after years in Dal he started sounding like a native. My mother taught him.”

“Would you teach me?”

Jaebum opened his eyes wide in alarm. He stood up from his place and made for the door.

“No, I don’t think I should.”

Jinyoung stopped him leaving with a hand on his forearm.

“Why not?” he asked, holding onto Jaebum harshly.

“Because it’s dangerous,” Jaebum answered, trying to pry his hand away, “you told me yourself that the council banned all information about the Dal Salam.”

“The council doesn’t have to know about it,” Jinyoung pressed. His desire to learn everything he could was overcoming the reservations he had about the Dal Salam. 

“I’ve already told you too much,” Jaebum answered, his nails hurting Jinyoung’s fingers when he used them to free himself, “I should be forgetting about all of this, that would be better for everyone. I didn’t understand how perilous this knowledge was at first, but now, I really should stop myself from telling you any more about the Dal Salam. I am a human, so they are my enemies anyway.”

Jinyoung did not believe one word of that. Jaebum always sounded excited when he spoke of the Dal Salam, it was clear he did not think about them as his foes. He let Jaebum leave his room without another word, disappointed despite himself that the half-blood still tried to make a fool out of Jinyoung. He also felt frustrated with himself for almost trusting a fraud. 


	7. The Fine Art of Luring

It was better to keep his distance from Jinyoung, Jaebum decided. He has been getting too sociable with him, and while this in itself was not entirely against his mission here, not only was he starting to genuinely like the prince, but he also shared a lot of information with him. He couldn’t help himself, Jinyoung’s curiosity seemed to be a good thing to him. People here knew so little about the Dal Salam and Jaebum hoped against himself that the widespread hate originated from there. The fear of the Moonblood magic was absurd, most Dal Salam could do little more than some small enchantment, not even useful in combat. Humans would be able to defeat them simply with their numbers if it wasn’t for the old families, whose powers were the only truly impressive ones. Besides, they had managed to wipe out the most formidable clan, so if anything, it was the Dal Salam who should be afraid of the humans.

Jaebum wanted to believe peace was possible, that their countries could still return to their previous camaraderie. It seemed possible to him when he spent time with Jinyoung and they exchanged knowledge about their nations, both interested in what the other had to say. But it was Jackson who had really taught him how far the hate for Moonblood went. It was the king who made him understand that his parents were wrong to think diplomacy could solve all of this. And with every day, Jaebum understood better that he was alive because of his human looks, and that if anyone found out about his heritage, neither the king nor the prince would be able to protect him. He wasn’t sure they would even want to. 

Those contemplations were useless now. He should focus on what Bambam told him to do: find the Moonstone. Then kill the king, though Jaebum didn’t want to think that far. Afterward, Yugyeom would be free, though if Bambam finally got what he wanted, the war was sure to break out, so they might both die anyway. Or Jaebum would have to face Jinyoung on the other side, so yes, it was better not to get so attached to the prince. 

Bambam was wrong in choosing him for this task, and he didn’t quite understand why he thought Jaebum was able to find Dal. He wasn’t the only human-looking half-blood in the kingdom, far from that, and there were surely others more suitable to act as spies. It was probably a simple misconception on Bambam’s part, but when Jaebum tried to explain it to him, he failed spectacularly. The Kim family was extremely mixed with commoners and humans, their powers random and varying in degree. It was true that most members of the main line retained similar gifts to their ancestors, and both Yugyeom and Jaebum had their part of the Siren’s gift. While Yugyeom was certainly powerful, especially with his other ability to blow things up, he couldn’t use his voice on people, though he had no problem controlling any kind of animal. Jaebum had his mother’s gift, but nowhere near as strong as her, no matter what Bambam imagined. In the first place, he was not as naturally talented, and secondly, his attitude to learning it had been a bit lacking. Even the power of floating, that he had from god knows where, was only working at night. While he could use his voice irrespectively of the time, people were not as easily influenced by it as if they would have been by his mother’s. It was almost effortless to make someone vaguely attracted to him, but making someone spill their secrets, that took time and trust of the person. He didn’t know how to manipulate anyone to do things for him, and if he tried, people usually took notice. He couldn’t even make the merchants sell things for him cheaper, something his mother could do with three words, and if Bambam believed Jaebum would just say something and the council would give the Moonstone to him, he was very wrong. If he had such power, his mother would have made him the head of the Kim clan, indifferent about the rest of the clan’s judgment. 

The only thing he was really good at was dream-weaving. From his earliest years, he could use it to make his brother fall asleep faster, transporting him into a beautiful world from their mother’s stories. Jaebum shouldn’t have used it on Jinyoung, it gained him nothing and was not devoid of danger. He did it because the prince looked as if he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months and Jaebum assumed that was what made him so irritable and unpleasant at times. But he didn’t see how this power could help him find the Moonstone, and he was hesitant in using his tricks against Jackson. He knew too little about the king, despite spending a lot of time with him. If by some strange chance he knew Dalhyo and recognized the words before Jaebum’s spell worked, he would be done for. There was no chance of getting close to anyone of the council, so the king was his best bet, but they had to become more involved before Jaebum could even try. 

***

Jaebum admittedly could and had in the past used his voice to seduce people. That was his initial plan in getting Jackson to spill his secrets, but he had to be careful with it. People were instinctually aware of someone playing with their feelings too much. He took another route, trying for seduction with only minimal support of his voice, but that was unfamiliar territory. He was considered somehow attractive among the Dal Salam, though certain nobles wouldn’t look twice at a dark-eyed half-blood. Among the general folk, there were those who had been interested in him and called him good-looking, but people in Arulat seemed to be more charmed by his appearance, judging, not only from Jackson’s and Jinyoung’s initial reactions to him but also from the behaviour of the maids that became embarrassed in his company and Miran calling him ‘pretty boy’ with humorous disapproval. 

Jackson himself was stunning, his brown hair and tanned skin completely different to what Jaebum was used to, but captivating nonetheless. His features were quite sharp but his eyes softened the king’s face with their smooth auburn colour, though they did not lack severity when he was angered. Jaebum had yet to categorize his smiles, but most often there were those he gave to servants, benevolent and straight-forward, and those he had in private, amused and playful. The timbre of his voice was rather striking, very low, and hoarse. Jackson carried himself with an air of natural authority Jaebum had never seen in anyone except Bambam, but the Mage seemed cold and unapproachable when he marched with his head held high, while Jackson managed to look confident without being overly intimidating. At least most of the time, he did seem quite frightening when he sat with the council and Jaebum assumed seeing him on the battlefield was also quite an experience. 

The point was, Jackson could easily have anyone he wanted, male or female. Jaebum thought he was trying to charm him in the beginning, but then he realized it was just the peculiar way in which Jackson interacted with people he felt comfortable with. He conversed in that manner with Jinyoung too, even though the prince was his stepson.

He couldn’t play excessively subtle, but trying too hard would probably get him nowhere either. The simplest way to show attraction was eye-contact and he used plenty of that, to the point he could picture the exact colour of Jackson’s irises. When Jackson talked to him, Jaebum kept an open pose, leaning slightly in his direction, looking down at his lips sometimes, listening attentively. If they were further apart and Jaebum was caught watching him, he averted his eyes in a shy manner or played with his hair distractedly. Jaebum smiled at him in the most welcoming way and spoke with him in softer tones. The king would have to be daft to misunderstand his advances.

It was hard to say if Jackson touched him in friendly or coquettish ways. He had an easy-going nature, so a hand on Jaebum’s shoulder or on his back could very well mean nothing at all, the teasing smiles could just be in Jaebum’s imagination. He laughed whenever Jaebum did something more daring, like kissing his hand. Even when Jaebum ghosted his lips over the king's when he found him resting under the beech tree, Jackson didn’t really kiss him back, but smiled and patted his neck, looking as if all of it was a joke to him.

It took Jaebum unawares when the king entered the bathroom while Jaebum was disrobing for a bath. He automatically reached for the shirt to cover his chest, but Jackson stopped him.

“Don’t do that on my account,” he commented with a smile and approached him.

Jaebum threw the shirt down hesitantly, to Jackson’s clear amusement.

“Want some help?”

Jaebum played his best impression of being startled by the suggestion but didn’t move back when Jackson slowly reached to his trousers to unbutton them.

“In my humble opinion,” Jackson said, focused on the buttons, “there is no reason to over-complicate things. It’s hard for me to play hard to get, so if you want to sleep with me just say so.”

Jackson’s smile was relaxed, a kind of expression that suggested he was ready to accept rejection with grace and he was not pushing for anything. Of course, after weeks of trying to get the king to this point, Jaebum had no intention of making him stop, and he was quite glad Jackson was making it easy for him.

Admittedly, his breath hitched when Jackson yanked his waistband, bringing Jaebum closer, their mouths centimeters from each other. Jackson’s lips were curled in a teasing smile and Jaebum took the last step, leaning down to kiss the shorter man.

After that point, he did quite forget why he was doing it and was more concentrated on how amazingly Jackson’s tongue felt inside his mouth and how excited he felt just by being kissed. Jackson was nipping on his lower lip playfully while he put his hands on the low of Jaebum’s back, forcing the clothes down his body. He separated them only to sink down and take Jaebum’s trousers completely off, getting up provocatively, definitely too close to the skin on Jaebum’s thighs and stomach. When he was back at the right level he kissed Jaebum again, forcing his mouth wide open with his own.

Despite the fact that he was naked, Jaebum felt overheated. Jackson was a very pro-active kisser, though he wasn’t entirely dominating, and Jaebum was left completely breathless when they separated. Jackson smirked, noticing his titillation and pushed on Jaebum’s arms. He obediently took a step back, then another, slowly walking backwards until he felt the edges of the tub against his legs. Jackson looked at him suggestively and started unbuttoning the buttons of his own shirt. Jaebum moved in his direction, leaning down to kiss his neck and helping him with the buttons of his shirt, then his trousers, until Jackson was completely disrobed and they both entered the warm water.

Jaebum’s heart pounded as Jackson kept kissing him and exploring his body; pulling on Jaebum’s hair, running his hands down his back and discovering the patterns of muscles on his chest and stomach. He himself studied Jackson’s body attentively as the king bowed over him, the water making his tan body even more mouthwatering, prompting Jaebum to move forward and lick over his dark nipple, sucking it into his mouth as Jackson whined and held Jaebum closer by the hair. Jaebum’s examination didn’t stop there, he moved his mouth to the other nipple after he determined the first one sufficiently tormented. Jackson exhaled a satisfied chuckle above him, running his hand through his hair.

When both nips were nicely taken care of, Jaebum kissed up to Jackson’s throat, biting on the skin there, Jackson making a surprised sound. He went up further, delving into the heat of Jackson’s welcoming mouth once again, kissing him passionately, while he pushed on the undersides of Jackson’s thighs to make him stand up in the tub. When he rose up, Jaebum found himself in an ideal position to take him inside his mouth, but he didn’t do it right away, teasing the skin of Jackson’s hips first, lavishing his abdomen with open-mouthed kisses.

Once he did take him inside, Jackson’s hips shifted and he steadied them with his hands. He went especially slow, licking along the shaft with torturous precision, uncaring about the hand in his hair that tried to hasten his movements. He looked up Jackson’s toned body to see his face filled with desperation, but that too, wasn’t enough to push him to go faster. Only when he felt he was getting too excited himself, the noises Jackson made too much to bear, he sped up his efforts, taking Jackson in deeply, the stretch of his mouth uncomfortable but ultimately making Jackson’s legs tremble. He reached his fingers to fool around with Jackson’s testicles, the king driving into him harder, making Jaebum realize he was close. He drew his head back, using his hand to bring the king to completion, though after Jackson came, he licked along his tainted palm to learn the taste.

He helped Jackson kneel down over his lap again, the king panting against his neck as he regained his senses. Jackson laughed with contentment when his body returned to a slightly less feverish temperature. 

“You’re very good at that,” he told Jaebum with a wicked smile.

The king must have believed that he had tons of practice, and although Jaebum was no virgin, he really wasn’t as promiscuous as Jackson probably assumed. No matter what Yugyeom and the Kim household employees seemed to think about him and his occasional disappearances.

“Glad to serve your majesty well,” he answered, tipping forward to suck on Jackson’s lower lip. Jackson kissed him back enthusiastically, getting more into Jaebum’s space, able to feel his excitement against his stomach.

“It so happens that I’m good at it too,” Jackson promised against his lips as his hand went down Jaebum’s body. 


	8. The third son of the Tuan clan

The fact that the head of the clan was chosen simply by who was born first was truly unfair. Logically, Mark should have been the one to lead the clan and the country in the future. Both of his brothers may have been older and they were both light-haired, but it shouldn’t have mattered. Mark was the most powerful, more than his mother or grandmother. The gifts of the Tuan clan usually had something to do with precious metals, the reason for their prosperity, for the wealth of the entire nation in fact, as his family had never been stingy with the revenue of their sea trade. It was no surprise, therefore, that they were chosen to look after the country after the tragedy that had befallen the Bhuwakul clan, though their influence was substantial long before that. Not only did they make the Dal Salam rich, they participated in almost all sectors of commerce, actively created new workplaces, provided free of charge entertainment for the people, covered the costs of education and health care, looked after those who were unable to support themselves.

From the early years, Mark, as all the children in his family, had been taught that there was no greater power than the love of the people and that there was no better way to obtain it than with money. Generosity was the way his family won with other clans, generosity and being on good terms with everybody. The Kim clan theoretically dominated the seas with their trade, as great diplomats and merchants they conquered much of the Liao market and their connections reached even further than the borders of the Liao kingdom. Instead of trying to compete with them, the Tuan clan proposed a partnership that had made both of their clans the two most prosperous in less than a century, far surpassing the Bhuwakul clan. Tuans were the ones that helped the Mokoe clan obtain new cultivated plants that were able to withstand the heat better. They supported the laws and judgments of the Hakim clan, having their say in every decision already under the Bhuwakul rule. And while they weren’t great fighters, they never failed to back up the Jarumi clan in maintaining order, especially after the chaos that ensued following the massacre of the Bhuwakul family. They also had close relationships with clans other than the six main ones and individuals that mattered, never failing to offer their assistance. The most problematic clan, the Bhuwakuls, spiritual and actual leaders of the Dal Salam, were connected to them through unions resulting in children, another reason why the Tuans, as the ones most related to the previous leaders, had the greatest right to rule. They couldn’t call themselves kings or queens, a thing that not even the Bhuwakuls dared to do, not being the direct descendants of Dal, but as the royal line had died out long ago they were the monarchs in all but name.

Mark should become the king, he deserved to be one, and he would be far better than his weaker brothers. He was the only one able to turn things into any kind of metal he wanted, the unique Tuan with such flexibility since his great-great-grandfather. If it wasn’t for Bambam he could have the title of the Mage. While most of his family didn’t use their powers much in combat, they certainly could be used in a fight. It didn’t matter though, he wanted to be the one most in power, and the Mage, even though respected, loved, and feared by the people, was still not the one whose voice had the most weight. If that was the case, Bambam would have already started the full-on war with humans.

Which Mark thought was once again, the point of the six clans gathering. At least, Mark had the right to sit in on it, being of the main family, even if he was just the third son. Most of these meetings, he found the zeal of his cousin understandable but unable to accomplish anything. Killing a bunch of people was not going to return the Moonstone to them. The tactic of cutting them off from their resources seemed a much better choice, Mark agreed with his grandmother in that.

This time, however, Bambam sat calmly in his chair, not staring the debate and not doing much of anything. He was definitely up to something.

Even though, in theory, Bambam was his uncle, being the grandson of the sister of his great-grandfather, he was actually younger than Mark, so he was never called that by him or his brothers. His position was superior, of course, he was both the Mage and the head of his clan, but Mark has known him since they were babies. That’s why he understood Bambam’s silence meant something was about to happen.

So when the head of the Jarumi clan entered with a very concerned expression, not even sitting in his place but going to the middle of the room, Mark was not very surprised.

“Forgive me for barging in without a greeting, my lady,” he addressed Mark’s grandmother, “the head of the Kim clan has –“

“Just what I was about to ask,” his grandmother cut in, as was her bad habit while talking with people younger than her, “where is Yugyeom? Where is Jaebum? They are terribly late.”

Jaebum didn’t usually attend the meetings, but if Yugyeom was unable to come, he would be the one here.

“My lady, the king of Arulat has attacked them! I have just learned of this myself!”

All the members of the assembly looked at each other with shock. Mark felt as nervous as the rest of them, but he glanced at Bambam. He had a face of stone and Mark thought that he must have known about it already. Anyway, there had to be more to this, Bambam would not be able to keep his cool if he heard about any of their people being attacked by humans, and definitely not when it concerned Yugyeom.

“Explain at once, how did this happen?” his grandmother’s voice was strong, but her expression was clearly concerned.

“They apparently stopped at their country villa, planning to be there only for a moment. They never expected an attack.”

If Yugyeom was at the country villa it explained how they could even be attacked and why the news reached them so late. The main Kim residence was much closer to the port, but the country house was next to the border and fairly isolated.

“Were they killed?” lady Mokoe asked in a quivering voice. She had been a great friend of lady Kim, and her death had moved her even more than all the other members.

“The reports I got from the servants are chaotic at best, but from what I understood, they did not see them get killed. They were escaping, the guards protecting them. From other people I heard they saw the king had taken Jaebum, I’m assuming there is a chance they both survived and were taken as hostages.”

The murmur of voices was now full of dreadful excitement. Everyone was worried about the head of the Kim clan, and they all burned with the hope that he was indeed alive. There were many voices that asked what they should do now, some started murmuring angrily about the war, but through all of it, Bambam remained still.

“My lady, if I may,” Bambam finally spoke, his voice unusually subdued, and the whole room became silent.

Everybody expected Bambam to give a speech similar to the one he gave after lady Kim’s death. At that time, the war did almost begin full-force, most of the families enraged with the news. In the end, the one who opposed it then _was_ Yugyeom, the sorrow he felt not changing his pacifist attitude. Bambam had been allowed to destroy Arulat’s crops but nothing more. This time, without the Kim head here, there was a great chance Bambam would finally get what he wanted, as even Mark’s grandmother wouldn’t stand for another main family annihilated.

Bambam was, however, looking very unlike himself. He has always been pale, but now his face was almost greenish. He walked to the middle of the room slowly, as if his legs could hardly carry him. When he was there, he swallowed and closed his eyes, like he was going to pass out at any moment. Mark’s brother raised to stand next to him, to catch their cousin in case he would really lose consciousness.

“I have a request,” Bambam said, his voice weak and sad, “please let me be the one to send my people with the message to the king of Arulat.”

“What message? Do you wish to threaten them?” Mark’s grandmother asked, “our threats did not make them give us back the Moonstone.”

“No,” Bambam answered, shocking all gathered, “firstly, I need to know if Yugyeom and Jaebum are alive. I do not dread to think about them being dead yet. I want my people to see them with their own eyes and bring back the news to me.”

“And if they are alive?”

“I will negotiate,” Bambam answered earnestly, “if they have them alive, that means they want to exchange them for something, it’s not the same with the Moonstone, they would have no other use of the Kim house members.”

“And what do you plan?”

“If it means getting them back, I am prepared to promise the king anything that is in my power to give. Even my life.”

His words and somber tone astonished everyone. Mark’s grandmother had a deliberating expression on her face.

“I must say, I expected you to propose for us to tear them out from their kidnappers by force,” she spoke with a touch of disbelief.

“I would not forgive myself if either of them was harmed because of my haste.”

“You have said many times that war cannot commence without victims.”

“I have,” Bambam said, blinking with regret, “But there is one person I would not be able to sacrifice. Yugyeom was for me –“ Bambam stopped himself, the pain on his face overwhelming, “please, let me be the one to handle this. Let me save him if it’s not too late.”

Mark had to admit, Bambam really played it well. Of course, his grandmother agreed, everyone in the assembly supporting her decision. Mark wasn’t sure what exactly Bambam was planning, but he certainly had excellent acting skills. It was a very easy story to believe, most nobles knew that, despite never agreeing on anything, Bambam and Yugyeom were very important to each other, especially in their youth. And if people believed in the suggestion that they were destined for each other, and it turned out Yugyeom was really dead, which he probably was, there would be little that could stop the war, pressurized by the belief in Bambam’s renewed despair.


	9. Empty threats

“And they believed you?” Yugyeom asked with skepticism, tossing another scroll down from his position on the ladder.

Bambam expected Yugyeom to be less surprised and more enraged when he summarized the clans’ meeting to him.

“Of course, why wouldn’t they believe me?”

He was looking through the old texts that were his family’s heirloom. As the one who was supposed to keep the traditions and pass on the knowledge of the Dal Salam’s ways, he had to learn those writings since he was a child. Still, he kept perusing them in hopes that somewhere, a way to locate the Moonstone would be described, but unfortunately, no other Bhuwakul had the problem of having lost it before. 

“When was the last time you didn’t propose war as the only possible solution?”

“Yesterday,” Bambam answered smugly to Yugyeom’s great irritation.

“You do realize that implying we are destined for each other means they will expect us to end up together when it finally turns out I’m alive and well? Or do you actually plan to kill me?”

“We can always just get bonded,” Bambam suggested with a smirk but Yugyeom didn’t share his amusement.

“Don’t joke like that,” Yugyeom said, his voice harsh.

It was true that both of them were expected to carry on the bloodline as heads of their clans, especially since both of their families were almost extinct. It was more so in Bambam’s case, there were still many lateral lines of the Kim folk and if Yugyeom died without having children, Jaebum’s supposed offspring could became the head of the Kim clan. But as the last Bhuwakul of the main family, Bambam has been expected to generate kids since he was nineteen. He saw no sense in it when his aunts had talked to him about such matters, the pure-blooded children’s chances of survival were getting smaller and smaller the warmer the climate got. Their only hope was in recovering the Moonstone, and that was the primary focus of Bambam, instead of making babies. Maybe after the war he could think about it, but right now it was the furthest thing on his list. Still, the gathering was rightly shocked by the suggestion that Bambam and Yugyeom could be exclusive partners, as that might well be the end of the Bhuwakul line. 

However, one didn’t exactly choose his Ling Yiban and that’s why the noble families believed it. Moreover, it would explain why Bambam never had any interest in anyone, why there were no rumors about him. Dal Salam who had someone destined to them were often indifferent to other possible lovers. His Tuan cousins knew Yugyeom had been his best friend in teenage years and what divided them in adulthood were conflicting political stances, but the Kim heir had always been close to his heart.

It peeved Bambam that Yugyeom reacted so bitterly to the idea of them together. Well, it may have been because Bambam kidnapped and imprisoned him, and forced his brother to do something that could end up in his death. But it still felt like a private offence against Bambam’s person.

It was unfair because Yugyeom was strong and beautiful and intelligent, and if he could only see things from Bambam’s perspective, there would be no one more suitable for Bambam to spend his life with. 

“Why? Am I that ugly?” Bambam asked with a slightly raised mouth corner, touching the side of Yugyeom’s face. In a sudden move, Yugyeom pushed the hand away and backed him into the ladder, towering over Bambam, his stance aggressive when he took hold of Bambam’s wrist.

“Don’t play games with me,” Yugyeom hissed.

Bambam looked down at his scowling mouth. He was short of breath both because the other was invading his space and for the abruptness of his movement. Yugyeom rarely lost his temper, but when he did, he was a quite a sight and Bambam wet his lips, fascinated whether Yugyeom would truly try to fight him.

“And why not?” he asked, infuriating Yugyeom further, “what are you going to do to me?”

Yugyeom tightened the grip on his wrist and that was a mistake. Bambam made a current of electricity run up his arm and Yugyeom yanked his scalded palm away.

“You always do this!” Yugyeom shouted at his impassive form, “whenever we fought as children, you never played fair.”

“Why should I be fair? You’re bigger and stronger than me, I have the right to protect myself.”

“And I have the right to my freedom, yet you’re still keeping me here!” Yugyeom shot back.

Bambam sighed. If Yugyeom’s tactic was to annoy the Mage into freeing him, it was almost working.

“I told you, I will let you go unharmed once Jaebum succeeds.”

“What if Jaebum escaped? What if he betrayed you? Will I be locked here forever?”

“Jaebum leave you? We both know he would never do that.” Bambam answered with certainty.

Jaebum was never his friend, nevertheless, he did know him well enough. They didn’t like each other, but he obviously hoped the other would get out of this unscathed, firstly, because he was Yugyeom’s much-loved sibling, and secondly, because Bambam didn’t want to have the blood of a Kim clan member on his hands. Jaebum seemed to think he disliked him for being mixed, but it wasn’t true, lord Kijung had been a regular human, yet Bambam respected him for standing on the Dal Salam’s side. The thing that annoyed him most about the older Kim brother was his complete disinterest in all things practical. He devoted his time to singing, playing the piano, painting, or thinking about the beauty of the moonlight between the leaves and other nonsense, while Yugyeom took care of most of commercial and political matters. Whilst being artistic wasn’t inherently a bad thing, it wasn’t an occupation that a member of the main family should focus so much on, instead of honing his abilities and finding a way to solve the current crisis. Jaebum’s powers and looks were not without merit, but he didn’t know how to use them properly. 

“I don’t understand why you think that my brother is able to get this information out of them. He isn’t especially powerful, he was never very interested in exercising his gifts, and he was raised with the idea of peace.”

“You were raised in the same way, and yet it’s not like you don’t kill,” Bambam reminded him, “What makes me think he can do it? Simple – desperation.”

“Why would Jaebum believe you can hurt me?” Yugyeom scoffed, “you’re crazy but not that much.”

“What makes you think I won’t hurt you?” Bambam replied, leaning into Yugyeom’s space.

Yugyeom wasn’t as intimidated as he should be, it only made him huff with anger and catch the front of Bambam’s shirt, dragging him even closer.

“Fine, I will make it easy for you,” Yugyeom spoke in low tones, “strike me down now. When other clans find out you’ve been keeping me here, you are going to lose your position. Better get it done with.”

Bambam looked into Yugyeom’s severe eyes. He knew Yugyeom was bantering with him only because he was certain Bambam wouldn’t be able to really do him harm. Even though Bambam could electrocute him lightly to get further from the man’s imposing figure, he only moved his hand to cover Yugyeom’s on his shirt.

“What about you? You could kill me and run away.”

While Bambam’s power allowed him to do a great deal of damage, he mostly fought long-distance. When they had physical contact, Yugyeom could easily use his power to turn a living thing into an explosive, and he could probably do it faster than Bambam would be able to attack. But if Yugyeom used his gift on him, the only outcome would be death. Bambam could send small charges of electricity through his body if he so wished, he didn’t have to kill Yugyeom to make him step back.

As far as Bambam knew, Yugyeom only used his power on a person once, and it was because of the Mage himself, with a sudden attack from traitors bought out by the human council, that could have possibly meant his end. While he was focused on opponents before him, some of them tried to assault him from the back, but Yugyeom had thrown the sword out of the closest one’s hand, twisting his wrist while he spoke magic-filled words and hurled the man backward at his comrades, while he jumped in the opposite direction, throwing Bambam to the ground to protect him from the close explosion. In that way, Yugyeom got rid of four attackers at once, the blast killing the other two and impairing the third. When Bambam asked him if he regretted blowing up the assailants, Yugyeom answered that he would do it again if it meant saving him. 

They could throw threats, and they could act as enemies, but they both knew neither would kill the other. As always, they were on a standstill.

Despite all his ire, Yugyeom’s eyes softened and his hand loosened its hold on the shirt when Bambam run his finger calmingly over his knuckles.

“Could I?” Yugyeom asked resigned, “it never crossed my mind.”

“It will be all right, Yugyeom. Jaebum will find the Moonstone. You will be free. And I will protect and save our people, as is my duty.”

“Why do you believe it will work?”

“Desperation,” Bambam replied with a weary smile.

As the last Bhuwakul he had a duty to solve this problem or die trying. It was a burden and a gift to wear his name and protect the Dal Salam and he would do this even if it meant abusing his power. Even if it meant Jaebum would be killed and Yugyeom would never speak another word to him. Yugyeom might think that it was rage and the desire for revenge that drove him, but it was not, though he lacked neither of those. His family was the one that lost their Queen to the humans and their ghosts could not live in peace until he reclaimed her and made those who stole her pay.


	10. The unforeseen downside of espionage

Jinyoung was not ignorant. He noticed that Jaebum stopped spending time with him. He saw that he and Jackson were behaving differently. That he didn’t want to draw conclusions was the fault of his stubborn nature, not of obliviousness.

What hurt him the most, despite how much he didn’t want to admit it to himself, was that Jaebum stopped frequenting his room. He went in only from time to time to check on the damned bird. Jinyoung liked to think that it was because he couldn’t sleep calmly without the sound of Jaebum’s voice, and not because he had become foolishly fond of someone he knew so little. He had gotten used to daytime naps, being unable to sleep long in the night, his nightmares waking him up. He often spent whole nights reading books just to soothe his overflowing imagination.

He missed Jaebum’s voice, not only when he sang, but when he talked with him. Of course, Jinyoung still followed him around, but it was harder to do when Jaebum was behind the closed doors of the king’s chambers. He talked with him at mealtimes, and while Jaebum didn’t ignore him, he visibly paid more attention to the king and Jinyoung didn’t leave the dining room with childish ire only because he had to dig for clues about Jaebum’s plans. Even though, at that moment, he wasn’t sure Jaebum even had a plan. Maybe he wasn’t looking for the Moonstone at all. Maybe it was just Jinyoung’s imagination. What spy would use his time so idly? At first, Jaebum devoted some time to snooping around, but maybe he had simply been trying to learn about the place he was to live in from now on. Later on, he spent a lot of time with either Jinyoung or Jackson, and now, he mostly kept to Jackson, whenever the king wasn’t busy.

Maybe what was the official version was actually true, that Jaebum had been freed from his cruel brother by the king, so he was, of course, very fond of the man. Maybe he got tired of Jinyoung’s questions and seeing him forever in his books. Jinyoung wasn’t a fascinating person in the first place and he had often been rude to the half-blood, not to mention that he still suspected him of deceit. There was no reason for Jaebum to like him and want to spend time with him, of course he would rather be with the king.

Yet, Jinyoung still felt betrayed, even though Jaebum wasn’t his friend. He should be nothing to him, a poor stray Jackson brought home. The prince didn’t understand why he felt such unease whenever he saw Jaebum’s perfect pink lips stretch in a smile that was directed at Jackson.

Jinyoung was not stupid. The secretive looks those two exchanged had one interpretation, but he rejected it from his mind until the picture was forced into it.

He was asking for it. Following Jaebum around had to lead to that at some point, but really, it was the _library,_ how was he supposed to predict that? Normally, people went there to read books. That was the purpose of it and he felt rightly indignant that they would be so disrespectful to this sacred residence of knowledge.

He should have backed out right after he heard Jaebum’s low moan. He definitely shouldn’t have gone in the direction, hiding behind a bookshelf when he saw the two figures moving. Even then he had a chance of backing out, instead of shoving a book aside to glance at the scene.

If he had backed out, he wouldn’t have seen Jaebum’s head thrown back, his mouth wide open as his body was pushed forward with Jackson’s thrust. He wouldn’t have had to experience the stab of pain when he saw the king bite his shoulder to which Jaebum turned his head and kissed him, smiling against his mouth as Jackson sucked in his lower lip. He wouldn’t have felt the horrible arousal when Jaebum gasped, resting his forehead against the bookshelf, their quickening movements throwing some books off.

He wanted to run out and only the vision of being caught observing made him leave quietly. After cautiously closing the doors he quickened his pace, ignoring all the people he passed on the way to his room. When he got there, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

Jinyoung never felt this kind of rage, even though anger wasn’t rare for him. But this, the pain he felt, the confusion, it made him want to scream. He threw the closest book to the floor loudly, and while it didn’t make him feel better, the noise was satisfying. He threw another one and others after that, to the point his whole room became a sea of books, some of them opening up and tearing. He panted afterward, but the exertion didn’t lessen his frenzy.

The canary was spooked by all the noise, chirping urgently as Jinyoung reached into the cage, panicking when he closed his hand around it and dragged it out. He sat with it on his bed, feeling its rapid heartbeat against the palm of his hand.

It would be so easy to squeeze it to death, to turn its little head and snap its neck. He wondered with morbid delight how much it would hurt Jaebum.

There were tears streaming down his face, now that his panting had subsided. He was disgusted with himself for them. It wasn’t that he never cried, but tears caused by nightmares were different. It was stupid of him to cry over this. His mother would have laughed in contempt if she saw him.

He opened his palm. The bird’s wings were healed by now, so he propelled his hand up, the bird taking flight, but it only circled the room and then returned to its cage, completely ignoring the unlocked windows.

“Why won’t you leave?” Jinyoung asked it. Apparently, Jaebum wasn’t the only one crazy enough to talk with this mindless animal, “your master doesn’t care about me, you shouldn’t either.”

The bird didn’t answer, going to drink some water instead. Jinyoung wouldn’t call it the best companion.

He didn’t know how much time he spent thinking about how horrible he felt and all the reasons why, but at some point, he saw a figure land soundlessly on his balcony. He raised anxiously, crossing the mess of books to reach the half-blood.

“What happened?” Jaebum asked, watching his chaotic room with uncertainty, “the guards said you’ve made a lot of noise.”

“What do you care?” Jinyoung threw out.

Jaebum clenched his jaw without another word and started to turn to jump off his balcony.

“No! No, wait!”

Jaebum stopped and turned to him again. He was visibly confused by all this, and he even seemed worried. Though that might have been Jinyoung’s wishful thinking.

Jinyoung hadn’t hugged anyone since his father’s death. He wasn’t sure how to even get to that point, so he just posed his forehead on Jaebum’s shoulder, taken over by the need to touch him in some way.

“Jinyoung?” Jaebum’s voice was unsure as he put a delicate hand on his arm.

Jinyoung moved in closer, his hands going around Jaebum’s middle, his face hidden in Jaebum’s neck. Jaebum stood frozen in place until his other hand moved to rest hesitantly on the back of Jinyoung’s head.

“Are you all right?” Jaebum asked, his nose touching Jinyoung’s ear as he turned in his direction.

Jinyoung held him tighter. He wanted to delete all of Jackson’s invisible taint from the surface of Jaebum’s body, cover it with his own. He didn’t want to let go or ever let the king touch Jaebum again.

“Stay with me,” Jinyoung got out, his voice quiet but purposeful, “sing me to sleep.”

At least for tonight, Jaebum would be here, not in the king’s bed.

“I don’t think I should, Jinyoung. I should go –“ Jaebum started to get away but Jinyoung drew him in again with the hand on his back.

He looked into Jaebum’s eyes, their darkness as enigmatic as ever.

“Please,” he got out, unused to begging for anything, “I’m feeling miserable. Please, comfort me.”

Jaebum’s restrained expression softened. He acquiesced and let himself be led through the abandoned books, sitting in a chair next to Jinyoung’s bed.

That night he dreamt of being in a beautiful room, the candle-light illuminating Jaebum’s face as he played the piano, the melody sweet and melancholic at once. They weren’t alone, a couple of other people, blue and black-eyed, sat in the chairs next to Jinyoung, but the only ones he could recognize were Lord Kijung and Lady Kim. When Jaebum finished playing he turned his eyes to Jinyoung, with a smile that was for the prince only.

Jinyoung felt warm and comfortable when he woke up, but the coldness seeped in when he saw he was alone in his room once again. 


	11. Under the cold starlight

Jaebum was a master in breaking promises. So little time has passed since he decided not to pay Jinyoung attention, back to lulling him to sleep, that he was honestly surprised he even tried to make such pronouncements. He was supposed to keep away from the prince, it was dangerous to feel sympathy, or friendship, or affection for Jinyoung, and it was even more perilous to use his power on him when he was asked to. The prince probably had him figured out and was just waiting to get in his way, quietening his suspicions with soft words and a warm embrace. Really, Jaebum was weak, he has always been helpless against his own shortcomings. His father would be so disappointed in him.

His actions were disgraceful ever since he started to get a hold of his powers, using them freely to make others pay attention to him. He didn’t even consider manipulating people’s sentiments as something bad. His mother was proud that he exercised his abilities, and she only jokingly warned him to look out not to make someone obsessed with him, as his great-aunt had the misfortune of doing. But really, he didn’t have enough power to make someone fall in love with him, he didn’t force people to fool around with him. He treated his power as bait, it wasn’t his fault if the fish took to it.

His father was of a different opinion. When he sat Jaebum down for a talk, he could tell it wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. And when his father asked him if he knew what he was doing and Jaebum explained his unapologetic reasoning, his father’s face became pitying. 

“Do you truly wish others to be enamored only with your voice?” he asked him then, “do you want your relationships to be the effect of bewitching another?”

Jaebum didn’t quite know what to answer. He wanted to tell his father that he didn’t truly care, that he was never long enough with anyone to consider that. In his teenage years, the idea of being in love was alien to him.

“You have so much more to offer, Jaebum. You don’t need to use your powers for people to love you.”

“Mum told me to practice,” he answered stubbornly.

“There are other ways you can practice,” his father stated, standing up to signal he said what he planned, “Just consider it.”

That talk stood starkly in his mind because it was one of the last with his dad. Shortly after, he was deprived of his advice, but he remembered his father’s teachings and his death had made him take his words more to heart. His mother was more focused on teaching him and Yugyeom how to run the family business, she hardly paid any attention to the moral issues of seducing people.

Jaebum did use his powers, but he always did it subtly, and mostly with people that were already interested in him. He didn’t think it made that much difference, people could be attracted to looks, to status, his power wasn’t the only thing that made others like him shallowly.

He was curious about what his father meant because he didn’t understand it then. He started understanding now, a little bit, every time Jinyoung asked him to sing him to sleep. He felt a strange commotion after finding out what made Jinyoung attached to him was his magic when he only used it to bring him some peace.

Singing didn’t calm only the one who was listening, it put his mind at ease as well. He wondered whether his own powers worked on him too, or if it was just that he liked to do it. Either way, it was a good way to deal with his puzzled feelings, so he did it unthinkingly, walking around the garden and reaching the gazebo. The moon was only a thin belt in the sky but the stars were shining brightly. Jaebum sang about them, an old nursery rhyme that all Dal Salam knew, about the tiger constellation chasing after the rabbit constellation, and failing every night, having to spend centuries with an empty stomach. A weird song to be sure, one his mother liked to sing to him. Her name, Harima, meant tiger in Dalhyo, and she used to say she was named after the constellation.

How different would it be if she was still alive? He supposed he wouldn’t be here, having to lie and cheat every day, to kiss and roll around with the man he was supposed to use and dispose of. He wouldn’t have to feel the guilt for deceiving Jackson, who was not a cruel and unfeeling ruler, just a person trying his best in his circumstance, thinking about those most forgotten. Jaebum wouldn’t have had to learn the truth about this horrible place, where people didn’t care about others, where they died from things like hunger, simply because no one cared to feed them. It was a miracle Jackson somehow cared about it, even though he could just forget it, he himself always having a full stomach.

He would never have met Jinyoung, and he wouldn’t have to feel mad at himself for agreeing every time the prince pleaded for him to stay. His mind wouldn’t have been such a mess.

“You seem down,” a voice from behind startled him.

He turned to see Jinyoung entering under the roof of the gazebo.

“Do I?” Jaebum answered.

He couldn’t let Jinyoung see him with his guard down.

“Your song was sorrowful,” Jinyoung continued, “you comforted me when I asked you. Let me do the same.”

Jaebum smiled with disbelief.

“I don’t think you can solve my problems, your majesty.”

“Let me hear them, and then we can decide.”

It was better to satiate Jinyoung’s curiosity now than make him bothersome later.

“I was thinking about my mother. I miss her, and my father,” Jaebum looked up at the tiger constellation, “you surely know the feeling.”

“I do,” Jinyoung said, walking closer to him, “and I know nothing can console it.”

“Isn’t it strange? Our lives seem to be travelling in parallel lines, my father died shortly after yours, the death of your mother was the reason for my mother’s murder.”

“Not exactly,” Jinyoung answered, “Parallel lines don’t cross, but our paths have.”

Jaebum smiled with dry amusement.

“I wonder if we would have met if they had not died. Maybe we were always supposed to cross paths.”

Jinyoung clenched his mouth, his eyes strangely determined. Jaebum didn’t predict that he would move closer and though he realized what was about to happen, he didn’t move away when the prince reached his mouth, pressing dryly against his slightly open lips. A kiss was not a shocking thing, Jaebum had experienced many of those, but still, despite the fact that Jinyoung didn’t kiss expertly, despite that he tried not to move his own lips in answer, he felt a shiver run through his body, reaching deep inside his bones, droning out anything else in his mind.

When Jinyoung’s hand moved to the back of his neck to tilt his face more to the side, Jaebum woke up from his daze and shoved the prince away, holding him away with hands on his chest.

Jaebum had bewitched him. He didn’t even know, didn’t even realize he was doing it. He wasn’t trying to cast a spell on the prince and he felt a stab of guilt looking at Jinyoung’s lost, dejected expression.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Jaebum said, clearing his throat, “destiny may have brought us together, but not like this.”

He could have as well slapped Jinyoung judging from the pain in the other’s eyes. Before his eyes, the heartache transformed into resentment.

“Is it because of Jackson?”

Well, Jackson certainly was a part of the reason, so Jaebum didn’t even have to lie completely.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” he answered as coldly as he could, planning to leave as quickly as possible.

When he started walking away, he felt a hand catch his, gently, not to force him to stay, but to appeal.

“Wait, please,” Jinyoung pleaded, “I’m sorry. These feelings are new to me, and I don’t know how to act,” the anxious tone was too much for Jaebum, “forgive me for the kiss. I won’t do it again, so can you please not avoid me because of it?”

There were many reasons why Jaebum should keep away from the prince, the kiss not even being the most important. He agreed because he was a weak person and he was responsible for making Jinyoung this way, but he knew it was a terrible choice.


	12. The better suitor

Jackson was of a healthy outlook that there was nothing wrong with using the situation for personal gratification if both sides were willing. For a long time, he did not have a lover as engaging as Jaebum, nor one so stunning. He could spend whole nights leaving marks on the man’s white body, the skin pinking under the pressure of his lips, though Jaebum had a problem with staying still as he was a surprisingly active lover. In the daytime, Jaebum had a sleepy kind of energy, his way of moving sluggish, his manner of speaking languid. He seemed to always be lost somewhere in his thoughts, not quite awake. But that phlegmatic behaviour disappeared in the evenings and Jaebum’s eyes seemed more attentive. He was not dominated easily, and his body wasn’t weak. Jackson had loads of fun wrestling with him on the bed, sometimes giving in when Jaebum pinned him down, sometimes weakening Jaebum’s defenses with a multitude of kisses that made him pliable.

Jaebum’s looks didn’t do him justice. Somebody would either think him a seductive beauty if he smiled or quite intimidating when he glanced at you neutrally. Jaebum had the piercing eyes of a panther but he could be as sweet as a kitten. Everyone in the palace loved him because he was kind, but when he first arrived they did not dare approach him until he started talking to them in his soothing voice. He was good at keeping conversation, full of subtle humor, and always interested in what another person had to say. Jackson was surprised by the things he learned from him about the Dal Salam, and amazed by the level of compassion Jaebum had for others without distinguishing whether they were human or had Moonblood.

There were times when Jackson wished to tell Jaebum he was of the same kind, for the first time since he was a child. He had never considered telling the Queen, Jinyoung was out of the question, the council members even more so. But of all the people he had around him, there was no one he could possibly trust. He knew Jaebum wasn’t one either, but he wanted him to be. Jaebum would accept him, he knew. Perhaps he would even be more willing to be truthful if he knew about his Moonblood, but the risk was too great. If he trusted Jaebum enough to tell him such a thing, who knew what else he would end up revealing, and then Jaebum wouldn’t look at him in a positive light ever again.

There was another thing that Jackson noticed and he was at once surprised and amused. He never before saw Jinyoung moved in this way by another person. When he properly met the prince, back when they were seventeen, Jinyoung seemed to him to be completely devoid of interest for other people. The queen told Jackson her son was not attracted to women, but he was almost sure no one would be able to catch the prince’s eye. And yet, when those two were together, Jackson could see how their airs mingled with each other. They seemed to belong in the same space, and it made Jackson slightly envious, but mostly, it was entertaining to watch.

Jinyoung’s jealousy was palpable and Jackson was glad of it. The rest of his life was very stressful, but the distraction that Jaebum and Jinyoung provided made him feel his youth, something he often forgot about. Who knew if his actions would make the things between them better or worse? Jaebum seduced him on his own and he could stop sleeping with him whenever he wanted to, Jackson was not going to simply hand him over just because the Prince suddenly discovered he was a human being with feelings.

Besides, it irritated him. Jaebum looked at him with different sentiments; seductively, joyously, sadly, but he never had the controlled expression of being a tragic hero he gave Jinyoung over dinner. He would not kill Jaebum for leaving him, it was his own choice, he didn’t have to look at the prince as if he was forbidden from caring about him. Jackson acted on his annoyance, though he knew nothing would come of that.

Jaebum was distracted by gazing unsubtly at the prince and he didn’t notice Jackson’s hand until it landed on his thigh. He stiffened and looked at Jackson, and he answered him with a calming smile, his finger tracing circles on his leg. Jaebum tried to relax his body, surly unwilling to make Jinyoung notice, but really there was no way the price wouldn’t see it, with the way he glanced at Jaebum whenever he thought the other wasn’t looking.

Jackson could see the exact moment Jinyoung realized where Jackson’s hand was under the table. He might have imagined more than it was because Jaebum’s face was getting red, his eyes unable to meet either of them. It was comical to see Jaebum embarrassed after all the things they did, but he knew it was because of the company and not the action itself. When he moved his hand higher up, tracing the inside of Jaebum’s thigh slowly, Jaebum jumped and shoved his hand under the table to stop him. This was even more telling than anything Jackson could do and he glanced at Jinyoung. He was surprised to see the prince staring at him dead on with clear murderous intent. Jinyoung was not similar to his mother, but that expression, the cold animosity on his normally neutral face, made Jackson remember her with a shiver.

It would have been amusing to continue and see if Jinyoung would try to attack him with the steak knife he was holding, but Jaebum was looking very uneasy and throwing apologetic gazes in Jinyoung’s direction, that honestly, the prince didn’t deserve. Nevertheless, Jaebum was a sweetheart and Jackson didn’t want to drive him away, so he stopped moving his hand up his leg.

On the other hand, Jackson himself was not a very nice person, so he raised the hand holding his own up to his lips, planting a devoted kiss on Jaebum’s lovely skin. Jaebum didn’t react in any way, except blinking with surprise, but Jinyoung’s scandalized face was golden. 

Still, Jinyoung was holding his feelings in quite well, so Jackson took another route. He waited until Jinyoung started drinking his wine to say:

“I’m thinking about remarrying.”

He was satisfied when Jinyoung choked on the drink in shock, Jaebum standing up to slap his back while he coughed.

Jinyoung stood up, the tears in his eyes from coughing adding to his dramatically displeased expression. Jackson was kind of disappointed when he only politely excused himself and left the dining room, not even slamming the door. Jinyoung could really use some childish shows of dissatisfaction to make him seem a little less unfeeling. It left Jaebum standing awkwardly between the door and Jackson, clearly unsure what he should do.

It was mostly in apology to Jaebum, and definitely not for Jinyoung, for the self-indulgent proceedings of his own that made him approach the man, running his hand through Jaebum’s soft hair and smiling.

“I have to finish something. It will be quite a while until I go to sleep.”

Jaebum looked into his eyes with confusion, so Jackson moved in and kissed him passionately, to then push him lightly away.

“You’re too distracting, so make yourself scarce when I’m working.”

Now Jaebum seemed to grasp his meaning and he beamed at him, half in disbelief, before going out the door, undoubtedly to run after the prince. Truly, to have that one’s heart would be something remarkable. Why it chose Jinyoung was beyond him, though he was still a much better choice than Jackson would have been. 


	13. The broken son

The sun sneaking between the columns of the gazebo was making Jinyoung’s shirt cling to his body with sweat while he repeated the long-unused fighting positions. He hated being outside and he hated practicing. He always heard his mother’s voice inside his head, telling him how terrible his posture was, how weak his thrust, informing him that he would be dead in minutes if he wasn’t born with a silver spoon.

He wished the exertion would take all his feelings away. He had no right to make scenes and cause Jaebum to feel guilty after he asked him to stay close and promised not to kiss him again. He decided himself that he wanted to have Jaebum, even if he couldn’t have him in the way Jackson did, even if all Jaebum felt for him was pity. So when Jaebum went after him, following that horrible dinner, he forced himself to bottle those feelings up, to not scare the other away. Jaebum allowed him a lot simply by letting Jinyoung take his hand, by following him to sit on the edge of Jinyoung’s bed. He had the good grace to find a topic they could talk about and he spoke to Jinyoung about the dance of the Blood Moon, that the Dal Salam organized during a lunar eclipse and how Jaebum got drunk for the first time on such a dance, even though his mother had warned him to keep a low-profile. He apparently almost got into a fight with the eldest Tuan brother over eating his cake.

But remembering how Jaebum had grinned while telling the story and then reminding himself of his smiles for Jackson only made Jinyoung madder now. His arm hurt from how hard he was slashing the air with his sword.

He heard Jackson behind him and he only pretended that he didn’t recognize his steps when he turned around and threw his hand heavily down with his sword. Jackson managed to get out of the way without any difficulty, his face entertained.

“You shouldn’t approach someone holding a weapon from behind,” Jinyoung told him with barely restrained annoyance.

If Jackson wanted to surprise him, he could have at least stood in place and let Jinyoung cut him with the blade. That was the polite thing to do.

“Your invisible enemy seems to be a bit lacking,” Jackson stated, unsheathing the sword the Queen used to carry, ”may I replace him?”

Jinyoung didn’t answer, holding his guard up. Jackson smiled before making a sudden move in his direction, their swords clashing loudly, Jinyoung’s arms trembling with the force of keeping Jackson away. The king slipped back when Jinyoung came at him, attacking him from the right and Jinyoung stepped away, circling around him.

‘Always utilize the space around you’ his mother used to say when he was panting and bruised, his blood coating the grass. She never let him rest until his arms weren’t able to hold the sword up. She often said he was weak, his technique lacking, but he spent hours on the training ground, his opponents often older and more experienced than him, and yet he won against them, he fought and fought until he learned how to beat them. No matter who he overpowered, it didn’t matter for his mother, he was still a weakling because he couldn’t manage to defeat her.

He had rarely sparred with Jackson at those times he still practiced, but one thing that he was sure of was that he was stronger and better than the Queen had been. Jinyoung never wanted to win against him, to overthrow him, as much as he did now. He wanted to prove to be the better man, even though Jaebum was probably not watching. If Jinyoung won against him he would win against his mother, he would prove to himself he could.

He put all his energy into the slashes, uncaring when Jackson’s blade cut his arm. He didn’t let himself be cornered against the columns and kept fighting, but the outcome of this fight was predictable. Jinyoung rarely touched the sword since his mother’s death, and even before, he was not on the same level as the king.

“It’s understandable that you are a bit rusty,” the king said when their faces and blades were close to each other, fighting to overpower the other, “but you need to focus.”

Jinyoung threw him off with anger, but it was a stupid move that left him open. He was in fact, full of openings and Jackson used one of them to cut Jinyoung’s leg, though he could have struck a more vital part of him.

“Settle down your feelings, Jinyoung,” Jackson advised him, in an annoyingly helpful tone of voice, “Your wide swings are useless. You’re wasting your energy and endangering your body.”

“I know!” Jinyoung answered with irritation, throwing himself in the other’s direction with force, only for the king to avoid his sword and push his own forward cutting Jinyoung’s cheek and escaping from his reach.

Noble sons were expected to know how to use a weapon, but they did not fight like this, neither did guards or warriors of Arulat. This style of fighting was uniquely of the Yama tribe and it relied a lot on playing with your enemy, on strength and swiftness and use of terrain, but unless you had mastery over it, it left you more open to attacks.

They both fought in the Yama tribe’s style, as they were both his mother’s students. Nevertheless, he did not have the force, nor the precision Jackson did, and his chaotic emotions did not help, they just made him reckless. He would normally stop when going into a trap, his dominant hand caught against Jackson’s side, the man disarming him with a painful twist and kicking him out of the gazebo to lay on the ground. This time, he felt a sharp stone under his hand and he grabbed it, raising to attack the king with it, but there was already a blade pointed at his throat, preventing him from taking another step.

Jackson’s smile was ferocious when he said: “you look as if you really want to kill me.”

“Every fight is serious,” Jinyoung answered, not letting go of the stone.

Jackson smiled wider, probably recognizing the echo of his mother’s words. He put the sword down and sheathed it, and Jinyoung dropped his make-shift weapon, though he didn’t really want to.

“You remind me of her so much sometimes,” Jackson said, filling Jinyoung with revulsion.

“Likewise,” he answered, but his tone didn’t suggest anything good by it.

***

As a child, Jinyoung didn’t understand why his mother never hugged or kissed him. His father did that normally, taking Jinyoung up to sit on his lap, but when he lifted his little hands to her, she looked down at him as if he was the ugliest creature on the earth. That was only when he was very small, so he remembered it poorly, and he wasn’t sure what made him stop approaching her. It might have been that time when he walked in on her in bed with one of the ladies-in-waiting. Even though he didn’t understand what they were doing, his mother punished him severely for coming in without knocking, using the occasion of his father being away to close him in his room and prohibit anyone from giving him food for three or four days, he wasn’t certain. Maybe it was because he told his father about it and the fight they had because of it caused him to never tell his father about the things she did again. He only knew that at some point he started trying to avoid her at all costs, though it wasn’t easy when she was the one to teach him martial arts.

When he was older, he began understanding that what made his mother hate him was her displeasure with her husband. Their union was a political one, designed to bind the Yama tribe back with Arulat. As the daughter of the chief, she probably had little choice as to the marriage. From what he understood, the mountain people looked down upon those born in the plains. His mother certainly liked to call him soft-skinned, as well as badmouthing his father in front of him. In her tribe, the strongest warrior would have had the right to her hand, and she clearly thought the king, who hasn’t been much of a fighter, didn’t deserve her.

Jinyoung loved his father. The King had not been a perfect man, nor the best ruler, but he was affectionate towards his son, and he looked after him, protecting Jinyoung from his mother’s whims and the atrocities of the outside world. Still, it was unfair that his mother despised him just because he was his father’s son, after all, he was a part of her too. He looked enviously upon mothers caring for their children, but the older he got, the more hateful the vision of his mother giving him affection became. The love of his father was enough, as long as he only had to bear his mother’s taunting while he trained. She didn’t even eat with them and she disappeared to god knows where most of the time, both him and his father feeling more at ease without her.

It all changed when his father was killed. The day started with an excited Jinyoung, he was recently turned fifteen and his father allowed him to take part in his meeting with the Dal Salam nobility. He was anxious, of course, he barely saw actual Dal Salams before, as mostly half-bloods lived in Arulat, and even of those, he saw little of. His father warned him that the race was dangerous, possessing power Jinyoung could hardly imagine, and it made the prince more fascinated with them. When they entered, he was overwhelmed with their glow. As he had imagined, they were very pale and beautiful, but not all of them had white hair. Really, some of them looked quite human if you didn’t notice the blue irises, fair, but not impossibly so. Of their guests, he could only recognize lord Kijung Lim, who he had seen in passing, though he had never seen the woman accompanying him. He stared at her hair, neither black, brown, or white, but gray, of the almost bluish kind that some old people had, yet her face was fresh and young. She noticed his gazes and looked upon him with focused curiosity, her piercing, azure eyes reminding him of a calm predator.

In all honesty, he forgot most of the happening of that evening, and most people he saw there. His memory of lady Kim’s face had been unclear as well, Jaebum bringing it back to the forefront of his mind. His mind might have played a trick on him, Jaebum and the Kim’s leader seeming similar, their eyes both tiger-like and their features perfect.

One memory had pushed all the others out, that of his father collapsing after Jinyoung heard a swish of air. The weapons the murderers used were long, thin needless. Those needless protruding from his father's face and body, the blue eyes of the person who send them his way before escaping, the chaos that erupted afterwards. The rest of the world didn’t exist for Jinyoung as he kneeled over his father’s body, trying to shake him awake, looking at the guard who checked his vitals with disbelief. Youngjae had to drag him away from there, using all his strength. 

After that, it was his mother’s order in the palace and Jinyoung closed himself in his room to avoid her. He missed his father every day, and he tried to drown the sorrow with books, though they didn’t quite soothe him. At least, he had something to do with the time that seemed to run pointlessly forward. His mother had little time to torture him between council meetings and running the country. Only at training, she found ways to belittle and hurt him, but he was used to it, he learned to take it.

He was shocked when she introduced Jackson to him two years later, telling him that this boy, who was older than him by mere months, was to become the new king. It turned out that the addition of Jackson was beneficial for Jinyoung, his mother seemed to adore the guy and was a little less disagreeable in his company. She was also more focused on training the other, forgetting that her nuisance of a son was even there. Jackson himself was a pleasant enough person and Jinyoung didn’t mind him, as long as he left the prince alone. Only when he saw Jackson sparring with his mother, how strong and dangerous he was, he felt a pinch of envy. He had trained his whole life and he couldn’t compare.

His existence would have continued like this for a long, long time, Jinyoung supposed, if he didn’t overhear that talk. He instantly recognized his mother’s voice, but the other was alien to him, only later seeing that it belonged to the cloaked figure of a council member.

“- don’t forget yourself. You are the ruler for the things you have done, but the power is not yours,” the stranger’s voice proclaimed.

“My previous husband’s death is not only your accomplishment, did you forget?” the Queen hissed back and Jinyoung froze, “I took the power owed to me, don’t you dare imply otherwise.”

That was enough for him to understand the connotations, although he stayed to hear the rest of the talk.

Afterward, he reached his rooms in a frenzy, spooking Youngjae who was resting on his bed. He took his sword and left without answering any of his questions. That was the first time he entered his mother's chamber since he was seven. Jackson was not with her, thankfully, and Jinyoung raised his sword before she could as much as blink, keeping his distance. Even without a weapon, she was a dangerous enemy.

“Who really killed my father?”

She laughed ironically.

“Took you a long time to reach some conclusions, but I guess you are as dumb as he was.” She answered coming in his direction.

“Don’t come any closer!”

“Or what? Will you kill your own mother?”

“You are no one to me,” he hissed, “now answer me. Did you help the council murder my father?”

“That weakling?” his mother taunted, “he would have died either way and you will too if you don’t learn that there is no going against the council. Do you want to follow in your idiot father’s footsteps?”

Jinyoung’s hand trembled with devastation. He hoped, against himself, that she had nothing to do with it. The vision of one of his parents killing the other was too harsh to accept, though now that he looked at her mocking expression, he understood that she really would have no problem with murdering the father of her child. She would probably likewise have no problem with murdering him.

But the hand with the sword could not attack, the trembling too severe to strike. He couldn’t do it. He glanced at the window, where Youngjae was making a silent entry. But even when she jumped in his direction, he did not have the strength to do anything, and if Youngjae didn’t follow her and pose a knife at her throat, he would have probably ended up slain with his own sword.

She tried to free herself, but Youngjae warned her that he was not going to hesitate before splitting her throat open and she knew he was not joking, so she turned her furious eyes at Jinyoung.

“Order that insolent mongrel to let me go!”

Youngjae looked into his eyes calmly, holding her securely.

“What do you want to do?” he asked Jinyoung.

Youngjae would have let her go if he said so. He would probably do anything Jinyoung asked, the prince was aware of this.

He looked upon this woman and there was nothing in his heart except contempt. He would have forgiven her for treating him like trash all his life, for injuring him, for anything else. But not the murder of his father. For that, she had to pay.

“Kill her,” he told Youngjae, and his voice was strange - emotionless and sure. He didn’t even feel as if he was the one saying those words.

“Jin-“ his mother didn’t get to finish his name.

When her throat was split open, Jinyoung couldn’t close his eyes. He watched and watched, frozen in place as all life went out of her. Only when she was there, in the pool of her blood, he fell to his hands and knees, feeling as if he would vomit and covering his mouth.

Youngjae run to his side, holding his arm. In a split second, Jinyoung realized what they had done. The council, Jackson, if they found out about it, he was dead. And while he certainly deserved it, there were still other people who needed to pay for ripping his father away from him.

“Quick, hit me on the head and make me lose consciousness! Make it look as if I fought. Then escape.”

When he regained consciousness, Jackson informed him with a somber expression that the Queen was dead. Jinyoung was rightly confused by all of this and he chaotically explained that someone, a blue-eyed someone, climbed her window. He didn’t get to see much, he wasn’t even sure how he was defeated, but his mother was still alive when his eyes closed.

He was sure that it was the end of him, but for some reason, the king believed his fabrication. He was trembling all over and he felt an emptiness when he looked at his mother’s corpse, but that would also have been his reaction if what he said was true. Jackson knew enough about him to realize his and his mother’s relation was far from loving, but Jinyoung would be shaken, was indeed stunned, by her death all the same. To see someone alive suddenly as nothing more than an empty shell reminded him too much of the time he held his father’s dead body.

A day later, he returned to her room and found the forbidden book about the Dal Salam, full of stories and legends. He didn’t understand what the Moonstone was when he overheard his father’s and Lord Kijung’s conversation, neither did he understand exactly when his father told him it was the reason for the Bhuwakul clan’s extermination, without really explaining further. Only after reading the book did he grasp its importance and why the council had apparently stolen it.

From that time, he tried to find more information about the Dal Salam and the stone, but the books had really been all disposed of, the only one remaining being the one from his mother’s room. Asking around was too risky, and he was afraid Jackson would realize something was up. He hardly went out of his room except to the library, he didn’t even train, his sword abandoned. When he tried to do it once with Youngjae, he accidentally cut him a bit, and he vomited at the sight of his blood, even though it was a harmless wound. He, who had seen much blood, even his own, from childhood, was suddenly a weakling swayed by cosmetic wounds. His mother would have really laughed with derision, but his mother was dead, though her blood was an ever-flowing sea inside Jinyoung’s mind.

Youngjae was given the task of finding the stone, and he looked throughout the whole city, asked around, but people in Arulat, especially the older ones who knew more about the Dal Salam, were very unwilling to help in any way and, when they did answer, the information they gave was often useless and conflicting. After five years, they were no closer to finding the magical stone, their only lead that the council had it and it was making them somehow very hard to kill. At least, Jinyoung assumed they could die, though he wasn’t entirely sure. The one that Youngjae attacked ended up in pieces at the bottom of the river, from what the assassin had said. That’s why it would have been very beneficial for them to use Jaebum to find it out, but honestly, he might not be trying to do it, and even if he did, he would probably fail as they had. But Jinyoung could wait and see, maybe one of them would learn its hiding place.

***

He didn’t know Jaebum was hidden in the tree and him suddenly jumping down made Jinyoung instinctually point his sword at him. Jaebum didn’t even look at it, instead giving him a rapid once over.

“You’re bleeding,” he said with concern, reaching his hand to Jinyoung’s cheek, still ignoring the blade.

Jinyoung knew, logically, that the wounds he received from Jackson had to be bleeding, but all his jumbled emotions made him unaware of the pain and the red liquid seeping from his arm, leg, and face. Those were not deep wounds, made not because Jackson wanted to hurt him, but because Jinyoung was careless. At least, he assumed the king didn’t truly try to harm him because he could kill Jinyoung if he wanted to, and the council wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Now the little bit of blood left on Jaebum’s receding fingers made Jinyoung drop his sword, the ludicrous wave of nausea hitting him with vengeance. It must have been because he was thinking about his mother. Maybe it was her spirit that tortured him in her favourite way – by making Jinyoung feel weak and useless. If it was indeed that, he ought to have a more severe punishment.

He fell to his knees, only distantly aware of Jaebum going down with him, holding onto his arms. It became dark before his eyes and he could hardly breathe, as if he was drowning in blood-red tar.

“-young! Jinyoung!” he heard Jaebum’s voice as if from a distance, but it was getting stronger, clearer, “can you hear me?” he squeezed his arm, almost painfully, “focus on the sound of my voice,” he said, his words echoing in Jinyoung’s mind.

He wanted to answer but he still couldn’t breathe.

“It’s alright. Breathe in. Breathe out,” the timbre was strange, and Jinyoung realized it must have been some kind of magic that was making his body obey without question, “can you look at me?”

Jinyoung’s eyes unexpectedly regained their basic function and he raised his head.

“Good,” Jaebum praised with a little smile, “look into my eyes.”

Jinyoung didn’t even think about disobeying and stared into the black holes that sucked in everything around them, to the point that nothing else existed, just Jaebum, his face, his voice.

“It’s just a bit of blood,” Jaebum told him, and Jinyoung’s mind agreed as if it was always of that opinion. It _was_ just a bit of blood. 

Jaebum stood up, taking his hands and helping him do the same, leading them to Jinyoung’s room. He took care of Jinyoung’s injuries, but truthfully, Jinyoung could have done it on his own. The nausea was all but gone as if it was never there. He just liked to have Jaebum’s hands on him, taking care of him with the attitude of a worried grandmother, calming him all the time with a gentle voice, but interlacing it with complaints.

“Did Jackson do it? I’m going to talk with him seriously,” Jaebum said, and Jinyoung had to stop a laugh. It would have been a sight – Jaebum nagging at the king. Only the embarrassment made Jinyoung speak up on the topic.

“We were just practicing. Really, it was more my fault than his.”

“Swords are dangerous, did nobody teach you that?” Jaebum said as if he was older and wiser than Jinyoung by decades.

That did make the prince snort.

“Yes, they did. Can you even fight with a sword to be telling me this?”

“Hm?” Jaebum asked, cleaning the wound on his face as the last one, “my father tried to teach me. My mother stopped him when I was accidentally injured. She told him in no uncertain terms that we have powers exactly so that we don’t have to dabble with weapons.”

“I can’t imagine your power used in combat,” Jinyoung spoke, though he didn’t know all about Jaebum’s magic. He was starting to get a feeling it was far more powerful than he initially believed, but he still couldn’t connect it to any kind of violence. 

He thought it would make Jaebum close up, but he smirked, taking his hand of Jinyoung’s cleaned wound.

“I used to really annoy other kids in fights with floating over their heads. Obviously, those were not fights to the death so I used my fists. Yugyeom –“ Jaebum set up but halted himself with a start. He blinked and took his eyes off Jinyoung.

“All the noble children in Arulat are taught swordplay,” Jinyoung told him, changing the topic to not hear new creative lies that Jaebum was probably making up in his head, “no wonder your father wanted you to know it.”

“How can you practice with a blade if you’re afraid of blood?” Jaebum asked, his curiosity making him forget manners, as per usual.

“It wasn’t always like this,” Jinyoung answered, knowing he had to end this conversation or risk Jaebum finding out things he should never learn.

“Since when-“ he began to ask but Jinyoung threw himself in his direction and pushed him down onto the bed, the half-blood looking lost beneath Jinyoung’s form that caged him between his arms and knees.

Jaebum didn’t look as if he was afraid of him, but he did look wary of something, his eyes looking into Jinyoung’s quizzically, his lips slightly open with surprise. Jinyoung could lean down only a bit and feel those lips again. There was a chance Jaebum wouldn’t stop him, there was always some possibility.

But he didn’t take it. He only drew in a heavy breath and fell down on his side next to Jaebum, putting some distance between them. Jaebum started to raise uncertainly.

“Stay here,” Jinyoung pleaded.

“I was just going to sit in the chair.”

“No,” Jinyoung said, forcing his voice to be soft and not commanding, “I won’t touch you, I promise. It’s still daytime, you don’t have to go yet. You don’t have to sing to me, or even talk if you don’t want to,” Jinyoung swallowed, looking down at Jaebum’s mouth and berating himself for it, “I just want to have you close.”

The breath Jaebum took was sharp and it made Jinyoung want to connect their lips even more, but he did not wish to make Jaebum mistrust his words.

Though Jaebum should absolutely not trust him. Between the man who killed a bunch of Moonbloods, maybe even lady Kim if the council made him do it, and a man who murdered his own mother, he wasn’t sure who was a worse candidate to share a bed with. 


	14. Deals with devils

Jackson loved Jaebum’s back. It was perfect, his shoulders broad, his skin smooth. Sitting behind him on the bed, Jackson had ample time to appreciate it, his legs caging Jaebum’s sides, his hands going up and down, Jaebum arching when he pressed against his spine.

Jaebum’s skin was darkening, slowly but surely. It was first visible only on his face, but Jackson had recently taken him to the riverbank because Jaebum kept complaining how hot it was. The cool water was very to the other’s liking, and he played in it for hours together with Jackson, laughing when the other splashed at him and escaped. Even Jinyoung came with them, though he did not go into the river and spent most of the time reading in the shadow of a tree. Nevertheless, he seemed pleased when Jaebum run to him excitedly to show a dragonfly he caught.

When Jackson first saw his milky white face, he assumed he was one of those half-bloods who were impervious to the sun, like Namjoon, like real Dal Salam. Now he knew the color was thanks to his previously nocturnal lifestyle, and the sun was giving it a golden hue, still much lighter than Jackson’s skin tone, but making him look even more human. Nobody would suspect Jaebum of having Moonblood right now, the way they never presumed that about the king. Beauty alone was not enough to make the connection, and it pleased him that it made Jaebum safer from the council.

His hand travelled up Jaebum’s stomach, feeling the breath he took while he skimmed along his ribs, reaching to close it around Jaebum’s throat. The instinctual response of Jaebum’s body was to stiffen and Jackson snickered when the man forced that reaction down. The wiser thing would be to let Jackson feel his distress, he had no delusions as to the level of trust one person could give another.

To test how much control over his body and instincts Jaebum really had, he forced the man against his chest, his hand tightening its hold to a degree that wasn’t comfortable, though it was still not lethal. He glanced down to see Jaebum’s hands jumping and stopping mid-air, his heavy swallow a sign of forced surrender.

“Did you ever try to kill anyone?” he asked, his other hand moving to Jaebum’s chest to feel the terrified rhythm of his heart.

“No, not a person,” Jaebum answered tensely, his hand going up to rest over Jackson’s on his chest.

“Didn’t you ever want to? Like the brother who imprisoned you? You never thought about it?”

“Thinking about killing someone isn’t the same as trying to do it,” Jaebum answered, his body relaxing, his head falling back onto Jackson’s shoulder and it made Jackson loosen his hold unwittingly.

Submission was a kind of survival tactic, but it wouldn’t always help Jaebum. With a lover, with a friend, it could work, but there were enemies who would be harder to face. Jaebum needed to learn to protect himself if he was to stay in this dangerous world, to guard his secrets the way Jackson did.

Jackson let go of his throat to move the hair from Jaebum’s forehead and plant a kiss there.

“If you have a chance to kill an opponent,” he spoke against Jaebum’s skin, “never hesitate. Never leave yourself vulnerable. You hesitate, you die.” 

Jaebum raised from his resting position to turn around and look into his eyes. Of all the things, there was sympathy in his expression.

“Why so somber suddenly, Jackson?” Jaebum’s hand went to his cheek, and Jackson closed his eyes, letting his face rest against it.

“It must be because of practicing the sword with Jinyoung,” he sighed, “his mother’s lessons are vivid in my memory.”

“The Queen taught you swordplay?” Jaebum exclaimed with surprise.

“She did. There were few as skilled as her, but that’s to be expected of the Yama tribe.”

“Did you love her? Jinyoung’s mother?” Jaebum asked with innocent curiosity, “or did you marry her for the position?”

Jackson snorted. Love was a thing from the novels Jinyoung read, the people believing in it seeing the world through a haze of idealization. If you said you fell in love in the brothel, the other kids would have laughed at you, called you immature.

But there was no judgment in Jaebum’s question, only interest. From what he had told him, the Dal Salam viewed love and relationships differently than people in Arulat. While humans got married, bound themselves to each other for their lifetimes, though not always for love, the Dal Salam treated affairs as something temporary. Love was one of the factors that tied them, but as far as he understood, lust was just as good a reason, not unusual for humans, but less talked about. Another motivation was the bearing of children, and that often made for longer unions, the parents raising the child until it stopped needing them, sometimes having different children with different people at similar times. Jackson wasn’t sure how all this chaos worked, but it surely sounded better than lies that you will love somebody till death. Forever could only be judged at the end, not at the beginning.

“She was my partner,” he said, leaning in to kiss up Jaebum’s shoulder, “my teacher. Thanks to her I became what I am today,” he said reaching Jaebum’s ear and nibbling on it, “I cannot call what I felt for her love, but she was important to me, in a way.” 

***

Jackson remembered how it happened all too well. He was startled when, instead of the Queen waiting for him in the room of the brothel, a cloaked figure with a silver mask on their face sat calmly in the chair.

The members of the council were never seen in brothels. Most prostitutes thought they were wraiths, unable to feel human emotion, and the masks that covered their faces didn’t help to dispel this impression. It was only natural to feel intimidated, especially since Jackson was sleeping with the Queen, and he was sure that broke some kind of law, even if she was the one who paid him for it. And she paid very generously, Jackson didn’t even have to take on other clients with her around, so even when he learned who she really was, he disregarded the danger, knowing that killing him was difficult. But if someone was going to find a way, the council certainly could.

“Jackson,” the Queen said, appearing from a shadowy corner, “good, you’re here.”

“Your majesty,” he answered and she raised a brow. He always called her by name, but he was intimidated in front of the silent, cloaked figure, “what is going on?”

“The council has a proposition for you, Jackson,” the figure spoke with a surprisingly normal, male voice.

“It would be advantageous for you to listen,” the Queen added, sitting nonchalantly on the bed.

  
“What proposition?”

“You may have heard that the King has invited the Dal Salam nobility to try to reach an agreement. The council cannot let it pass,” the masked man said.

“And?”

“The Dal Salam are not stupid enough to try anything in the palace. But –“ the man added, raising his chin, “if they did, it would be very beneficial for us.”

Jackson had a terrible sense he knew where this was going.

“Can you get to the point?”

“I heard you have some half-blood friends. Specifically, blue-eyed ones.”

“So?”

“Will you be able to convince them to assassinate the King? We will provide the necessary assistance.”

The King was clearly done for if the council decided so, but he was sure they didn’t need him, nor his friends, for that. They could kill him at any moment. No, not only did they want to get rid of the problematic ruler, it was a political move.

“Why should I help you?” Jackson answered with a laugh.

No matter how much they paid him, being the cause of conflict with the Dal Salam was not worth it.

“Because,” the man said, his voice sly, “we will need a new king. One that is more prone to suggestion.”

Jackson opened his mouth in shock. Him, a king? That was just crazy.

“Don’t joke around.”

“Can you leave us for a moment?” the Queen spoke to the cloaked man, and he left the room.

“Jackson,” she said, putting her hands on his arms, “think about it. Don’t you want to change your situation? Didn’t you want to help those like you? You can do nothing until you have power. The council can give you that.”

“But me, a king? How is that even possible?”

“It’s enough if you marry me. Of course, we would have to wait until you’re of age, but that will come soon enough. There won’t be another opportunity like this.”

“The King’s assassination means war. How can you be so calm about it?”

“So what if there is war? The council is prepared for it. The Dal Salam are powerful but there is less and less of them. The Tuan clan cares only about riches, the Kim clan will do everything to avoid confrontation, and the Bhuwakul heir is no more than twelve. Once we get rid of the Jarumi and Hakim clans, their people will be as defenseless as sheep. We will take over their land and their resources. Now is the time to strike and wipe them out.”

Jackson swallowed. Half of him was from that side, the Dal Salam side, how could he allow them to be destroyed? On the other hand, what did they do for him? What did they do for their children abandoned on the streets of Arulat?

The first time he sold his body he was eight years old. Did the Dal Salam care? Did the people of Arulat care? The King, the Queen, the council, nobody cared about them, whether they were just ordinary children or half-bloods. They left them to fend for themselves, used them in exchange for scraps.

He knew the Queen was right. Until he obtained power, he was unable to help anyone. The only way he could change this world was if he was influential enough to shatter its structure, and taking down the King seemed as good a first step as any. 

There were only two half-bloods who met the criteria and would possibly agree to such a bold venture. For the first one, Jackson had to make some arrangements with the council, he wouldn’t be let into the prison otherwise.

Namjoon was sitting in the corner behind the heavy door, looking as if he hadn’t been fed for weeks. His pale skin was tinted with an unhealthy green hue and dirty, his blue eyes crazed and sunk.

Jackson had warned him when Namjoon decided to leave the brothel that it was a stupid and dangerous thing to do. The brothel at least fed them well enough, gave them a roof over their heads, and for kids like them, there was only one type of work, the illegal kind. Working for loan sharks in Namjoon’s situation, being a blue-eyed half-blood with a dangerous power, was suicide. But his only reaction then was to say ‘do I look like I care about my life?’

The fact that Namjoon was even alive after they caught him, probably meant that someone thought he could be of use in the future. Otherwise, it would just be a waste of space and food.

Now he really could be of use and Jackson explained the situation to him carefully while he ate the soup that Jackson brought with himself.

“You’re wasting your time,” Namjoon said, his mouth full and Jackson felt dejected before he heard the rest, “I would have agreed if you had simply said ‘let’s kill the king’, you really didn’t have to speak for so long.”

The other person wasn’t quite as easily convinced. Jia worked in the marketplace, painting fish to look fresh, the smell repulsing Jackson when he went to talk with her. This work paid way less than the one in the brothel, but she said it was still better. She had unpleasant run-ins with the costumers in the past, even though her power could easily be used in many situations, including killing someone.

“Jia, think about this. If I became the king, I could really change things around here,” he explained impatiently for the tenth time.

“What if the council is deceiving you? Jackson, you should not be naïve.”

“This may be our only chance! If I could do it myself, I would have. But I am not a half-blood and I do not have your power. You only have to bring Namjoon out of there safely, you will not have to murder anyone.”

Her grey eyes turned to him with severity.

“If I do this,” her voice was solemn, “do you promise to change Arulat? I will not make you a king just so you can live in luxury. This responsibility will always weight on you. If I see you slacking off I will get rid of you too.”

Jackson smiled. That was more like her.

Truly, he would not have any problem with killing the King himself, but it would require him to reveal the secret he managed to safe-guard all his life, as well as not being spectacular enough if the person didn’t have the Dal Salam appearance. The first time he killed a man was when he was ten years old, the man suddenly trying to choke him to death during intercourse, Jackson’s skin hardening to protect him. After that, he had to kill the client, otherwise, he would tell the others about Jackson’s powers. His fists turned to stones as he hit the man across the face, repeatedly and for longer than necessary. He probably cried then, he wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a frequent occurrence, he learned to fight in such a way that did not reveal his power and he didn’t like to see death, nor to deal with its repercussions. The man he killed then was thankfully no one important, and his wife certainly didn’t miss him much, so Jackson managed to slip away without any consequences.

***

Seeing the palace, all pure gold and imposing marble, was secondary compared to being able to see the Dal Salam, real ones, some even white-haired. He looked nothing like them. Perhaps that was why he was not amongst those gracious looking people, but with the serving staff, observing from up close only when he gave them food and drink.

He didn’t know who was who in this company, except for the Queen, that ignored his presence completely, and her husband, who he recognized by the black crown on his head. Jackson guessed the boy staying close to the King was the Queen’s son, Jinyoung, or as she called him – the ‘spoiled brat.’ It was strange to see the prince in person, knowing that they were the same age, being his mother’s lover. The boy looked nothing like her, except for his dark brown hair, but even his face lacked his mother’s austerity. He seemed as fascinated as Jackson to see the foreigners, but also spooked by their presence.

When Namjoon sent the needles in the King’s direction, he was sure to do it in such a way that it would be visible he was the one who did it and looked straight into the eyes of several people before Jia used her power to turn them temporarily invisible and got the two out of there. Alternatively, one could just throw those needles, if they had the precision, and it would still be lethal, they didn’t necessarily need the power to move small objects, but it was more provoking that way.

Jackson sneaked out in the chaos of the guards taking action and the Dal Salam protecting themselves. He escaped along with some other servants and was safely out of the palace and back on the streets.

Everything that happened afterward, happened so fast Jackson could hardly think. He couldn’t believe when the council member ordered him, with clear finality, to kill his friends.

“Nobody can know about this,” the masked man said calmly.

“They won’t tell –“

“How do you know?” the Queen asked from the windowsill, using the dagger in her hand to clean her nails.

He could kill them both. The council member, the Queen, they wouldn’t be able to hurt him. But what would that accomplish? He couldn’t kill everyone in the council, he couldn’t kill every guard and noble of Arulat. If he refused them now, he would not become King, and they would still probably find and kill his friends.

The Queen stood up when she assumed his compliance and gave him the dagger.

“Get it done,” she said and he realized that this was an exam from the council, to see if he would really be compliant.

Finding them wasn’t hard, they all knew these streets and their hiding places. He approached them in the guise of a friend, talking first. If Jia used her power, they would be able to escape, so he had to take care of her first.

When the dagger went into her throat, Namjoon was quick to attack, but his needles couldn’t pierce Jackson. He stared at Jackson with horror, as he took the dagger out and started walking in his direction.

Namjoon didn’t escape, uselessly trying to fight, anything he threw at Jackson unable to do any damage.

“You’re a –“ he tried to say, when Jackson jumped in his direction, diving him to the wall and sinking the blade into his heart.

“Forgive me,” he told the dying man, “I will change this world, but not yet.”

Namjoon’s eyes became empty and lifeless before him. He returned to the brothel in tears, the Queen waiting for him there. He had half a mind to drive the dagger into her stomach when she caressed his wet cheek.

“Stop sniveling,” she said in a harsh tone, “the power you seek was never without a price.” 

He was too young, too stupid, to realize what kind of people he bound himself to. When the purge started, his appeals to the council that the half-bloods were not the Dal Salam, that they were killing off Arulat citizens, were discarded. He could hardly even save those he knew, managing to hide only a few of them, wrapped up in the council’s short leash. He learned very quickly that he could only ask and they would decide whether they wanted to listen or not. They gave him a bit of power to help the streets, freedom over some resources, only as long as he did what they wanted, every discussion with these soulless demons tiring him out more and more.

The authority he had was not worth the price, it had never been worth it. The structure he wanted to overthrow was still there, as strong and impenetrable as ever, and now he was an instrument of it, nothing more than a weapon, waiting idly in the hand of its master to turn on them in the right moment, that could never come.

Gazing at Jaebum’s sleeping face next to him made his heart ache. Because of Jackson’s actions, of his naivety, so much of their kind had lost their lives or their eyes in the purge. He was drowning in their blood, the blood of Namjoon and Jia, the blood of the Dal Salam, and humans the council had made him kill throughout the years. There was nothing he could do, all of those spirits weighing on him, demanding retribution. He could hardly protect anyone, the enemy far greater than he assumed, the walls of his self-made cage closing around him.


	15. The enemy you trust

Jaebum was not as comfortable with children as Jackson, who had two of the orphans on his lap, and another little girl trying to climb his back. Adults were easier to deal with, though he got used to children after a bit of time as well. Yugyeom used to say he scared them off with his glare and because he was too tall, but that was just libel, Jaebum didn’t glare and Yugyeom was even taller. If anything, it was because he didn’t quite know how to act, so sometimes he used his powers to calm them down, but the effects of it on kids was unpredictable, sometimes he made them cry without meaning to.

The orphans were never very scared of him, the ones here, or the blind half-bloods in the other building. He supposed they met more frightening things than him before.

“What would have happened to them if they weren’t taken in by the orphanage?” Jaebum asked looking at the children fighting over some shiny toy Jackson brought.

If the orphanage existed only since Jackson became the king, how did they survive before that? There were children older than nine-year-old here, surely, they couldn’t have lived alone as babies.

“If they were lucky, they would be taken in by the other street kids. Many would die, but some could survive on begging until they were old enough to take on some kind of job. Some would just steal. The law doesn’t normally punish small thieves by death, and taking them to prison wouldn’t be cost-effective. In extreme cases, a guard or the vendor could kill them, but normally they would just rough them up.”

“You know so much about the life of the poor,” the Dal Salam did not have such problems. A poor person in Dal would still have a home, still have food. The Tuan clan provided those who couldn’t work with basic necessities. If someone was poor in Dal they wouldn’t eat pork, if someone was poor in Arulat they would hardly eat at all. If a Dal Salam child lost its parents and had no other relations, in the worst-case scenario it would be taken to the Moon temple and raised to be a priest, it wouldn’t be left to fend for itself. 

Jaebum didn’t understand this place, he couldn’t follow the way this country worked. He was always curious about it and offended that his father refused to take him when he went on diplomatic missions. His father didn’t let him meet the human side of his family, and even though Jaebum recognized he fell out with the Lim clan, he still sometimes wondered if it wasn’t shame over having a half-blood child. Logically, he knew his dad loved the Dal Salam, and loved Jaebum and Yugyeom both, even though only one was his birth son. Now he understood not telling the Lim clan about having a son was his father’s way of protecting him.

Bambam’s words, his slander about humans, always felt like a personal attack to Jaebum. After spending four months in Arulat, he could admit there was some truth to them, even though his mind tried very hard to reject it.

He got to know these people and he couldn’t reconcile the duality of his opinion on them. Not only Jinyoung and Jackson, who he couldn’t view as cruel or bad individuals, but all of the humans he met: the serving staff, the guards, the street vendors. They were joyful, nice, tired, sad, sometimes rude, but he couldn’t imagine these people stoning him for his Moonblood. He couldn’t grasp that they could very well be the ones that had sold out their blue-eyed neighbour, or blinded a child. Not even that, he couldn’t imagine that they would see a starving kid and just walk by without taking notice.

The ones he didn’t understand the most were the council members. It was hard to feel their humanity when they didn’t interact with him at all, wore those strange masks and cloaks. Their presence filled Jaebum with terror. Those were the people that managed to wipe out the clan that had protected the island from overseas invaders for generations, the dark figures that really had Arulat in their hands. What did they need the Moonstone for? Why did they want war with the Dal Salam? He didn’t know, and he’d rather not ask them.

He turned his attention back to Jackson who was looking over the children with a melancholy smile.

“I know so much about the life of the poor,” he replied, “because I used to be one.”

Jaebum raised his eyebrows in surprise. The king, a poor person? Jaebum assumed he was from a less affluent noble family, not even a commoner.

“How is that possible?”

“I told you, I became the king because I married the Queen.”

“How did you even meet the Queen? Explain this to me, I don’t quite understand.”

“When I was a child,” Jackson started, looking into Jaebum’s eyes, “I must have been abandoned by my parents. They were probably impoverished people from the slums that had too many children or something like that, though I cannot be sure. Someone must have taken care of me when I was a baby, but I don’t remember that either. I remember sleeping in abandoned buildings among other children, begging on the streets, searching for thrown-away food. At some point, other kids told me about a place that you could live in and that fed you well. I didn’t quite know they meant a brothel, I wasn’t entirely aware of what kind of work it entailed.”

“You were a courtesan,” Jaebum said with a gasp of disbelief.

Jackson laughed.

“Is that what you call them in Dal? Here, we were just called whores.”

“How old were you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jackson answered, he probably didn’t want to horrify Jaebum further, “in a way, I was in a better situation than some. I was fed and clothed and kept clean. Because I was popular, the madam saw a future for me, taught me to count and read, to speak to higher-end clients. That’s why I met the Queen.”

“This is so different from what I imagined,” Jaebum replied with disillusionment.

“What did you imagine?” Jackson asked amusedly.

“That you were a noble that escaped home? That your parents were against you marrying the Queen because she was too old for you? I don’t know, not this.”

“I told you, the Queen made me who I am. Speaking like a noble, fighting, politics, she taught me everything.”

“What an amazing story,” Jaebum said but remembered himself, “I’m sorry. You had a very hard life, I cannot even imagine how difficult it had been for you. I feel so lucky in comparison, it makes me ashamed.”

“You don’t need to be ashamed. I ended up being the king, you ended up in a cage. Luck can always change.”

“My luck certainly did. You freed me from my cage.”

Not entirely true about his luck, or his imprisonment, but Jackson did free him.

“Jaebum,” Jackson said in the tone he used for children, “don’t think too highly of me for that. I came there to kill, and you only survived because I was struck by your eyes.”

His black eyes. He wondered, in the same situation, would Jackson kill him if they were blue?

***

Jaebum could admit, he used his time here idly. He could hear in his mind Yugyeom’s voice, telling him not to risk it, that he was fine, that Bambam wouldn’t harm him, even though the Mage was unpredictable at best. But his mission here, that of finding the Moonstone, it wasn’t like he treated it as unimportant. Not only was the Moonstone connected to decreasing the number of Dal Salam children, it was also somehow at the root of this conflict.

Arulat had many troubles and some of them, the Dal Salam were the cause of. For now, they had enough food in their storages, but Jaebum understood that once it became scarcer, the people would forget about others, fight over what was left, the rich surviving, the poor dying out. And it was because Bambam had barred the possibility of trade, cut them off from the world, and burned their fields, enraged by Jaebum’s mother’s murder. At some point, the people of Arulat would have no other choice than to fight the Dal Salam to survive.

He was once of the opinion that this could be easily dealt with. If only the council gave the Moonstone back to them, there would be no reason for them to fight. The Mokoe clan could heal the land destroyed by Bambam, they could make plants grow and feed the people. The Dal Salam had resources, they knew trade and could help this place. His image was shattered by the reality of the depth of their problems. 

This conflict, it was too great for him. He wanted to be a diplomat like his parents, but his parents were dead, killed by their vision. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t see a way out. This was too much, it just made him want to escape back to Yugyeom, hide in his home over the other side of the border. He began to understand that he had to choose a side at some point, and even if he liked humans, even if he grew fond of Jinyoung and Jackson, even if he was, in part, human, even if he looked like one, his nation was still the Dal Salam. His loyalty was owed to them.

Jackson occupied his mind. Jaebum kept repeating to himself every day that it was not the time yet, that the king did not trust him enough to reveal anything. But at the orphanage earlier, Jackson had told him about his background. He grew close to Jaebum, he cared for him, Jaebum could sense it. And Jaebum was trying very hard to at once give him affection and not feel it, but it was a challenging thing to do. There was something about Jackson that made Jaebum feel like their fates were connected, he found something of himself reflected in the king’s words.

His conflicted thoughts led him to the center of the garden, to the empty, white gazebo. The melody he hummed was confused, distorted. He at once hoped that it would bring Jinyoung here, and he feared to see him. He was scared of Jinyoung’s fondness, of the way he could comfort him, forced to do that by Jaebum’s bewitchment.

The person that posed the knife at his throat and said “stay still, half-blood” was not Jinyoung. The voice was unknown to him, and when he tried to throw the man off, the blade got closer to his neck.

“Calm down,” the man said with irritation, “I’m not here to kill you.”

“What do you want?” Jaebum forced out.

“The council knows about you,” the man revealed and Jaebum’s heart sunk, “the king had not been informed yet, you still have a chance. I will hold them off while you escape.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“There is someone who cares about your life. I personally couldn’t be bothered,” he said, taking the blade down and forcing it into Jaebum’s hand, “here, if a guard stops you, stab them. Or work your magic, I don’t care. Just get out of this place.”

The person was gone already when Jaebum turned around, disappearing without making a sound. Jaebum stared at the dagger in his hand. He still had an opportunity. He could still try to make Jackson reveal the whereabouts of the Moonstone, Jackson had no reason to mistrust him. He could just sing him to sleep afterward and escape somewhere, without killing anyone. He would just tell Bambam he didn’t manage to do it and it would all be fine, Jackson would survive, Jinyoung would survive, he would learn the hiding place of the stone and he would wash his hands off this whole situation, let them have their war if they wanted to.

When he coated the dagger in the black liquid of Bambam’s poison, he told himself it was just a precaution. He could actually kill Jackson with it very easily, adding it to his wine, his food. This was just if his magic failed and Jackson attacked him. Jaebum would have no chance against him in a fair fight, but the poison would slow him down and Jaebum could escape then, and not even see him die. But it didn’t have to happen, he just had to believe in his abilities, he just had to focus. Concentration was the most important factor, his mother had said.

He hummed a calming melody all the way to Jackson’s room, to reassure himself and pacify any passing guard. When he entered, Jackson looked up at him to smile and returned to the papers on the desk. Jaebum had learned not to disturb him when he was busy, but his presence in the room, while the king worked, wasn’t unusual. 

Jaebum focused his power on the soft humming to make Jackson more prone to suggestion while he walked around the room. He looked at the king from time to time to check if he was getting more drowsy and when he noticed Jackson yawning he started to slowly approach him from the back, his hands travelling gently down the King’s shoulders, checking if his posture was relaxed. He kissed Jackson’s ear before he stated whispering words in Dalhyo, asking the king where the Moonstone was hidden.

“The Great Moving Desert,” Jackson answered unconsciously, his voice void of emotion, “the ruins of Tsagaan city.”

Jaebum was surprised by this answer, as nobody has ever found the ruins. Most believed they didn’t exist, and even if they did, searching the desert was a suicide mission. He needed more information.

“Reveal your secrets,” he changed the words of the spell, hoping it would give him a slightly different answer.

“I organized the King’s assassination,” Jackson answered in monotone.

Jaebum couldn’t stop his gasp and he felt Jackson’s muscles tighten as the trance was broken. The king started turning around, his expression stunned, and before Jaebum could think any further he took out the dagger and drove it with all his strength into Jackson’s back.

He had to watch in astonishment as the dagger broke into pieces as if he hit a rock with it while Jackson’s irises flashed green. The king didn’t wait for him to process this, he hit Jaebum’s face with his elbow, forcing him back while he yanked the broken blade from Jaebum’s hand, stabbing him in the stomach, Jaebum’s body curling on in itself with the impact.

Jaebum didn’t really have time to think that he was already a dead man and kicked the king’s leg, earning himself the minute to run to the balcony as Jackson took up his sword and followed him.

There was no moon, the evening cloudy. There was no other way out so Jaebum jumped before the king reached him, hoping his power will at least soften the fall to Jinyoung’s balcony.


	16. Lover’s Death

Jinyoung dropped his book, alarmed by the thud. He ran to the balcony to see Jaebum curling in pain on the floor. He was clutching his stomach, his hand, and the shirt around visibly bloodied and the hilt of Youngjae’s dagger protruding from between his fingers. Jinyoung barely overcame his shock and repulsion to lean over him, trying to lift him up a bit but Jaebum pushed him back with his other hand.

“What-“

“Free the bird, Jinyoung!” Jaebum shouted at him, his eyes desperate.

“Wh-“

“Quickly, free it.”

Jaebum sounded so dire that Jinyoung followed the command, running to the cage and opening its doors, the bird flying out. He watched in astonishment as Jaebum shouted a few sentences in Dalhyo, seemingly to the bird, the only words Jinyoung recognized being ‘Yugyeom’ and ‘Tsagaan.’ The bird flew out through the balcony right after hearing that.

“What is –“ he started asking, but heard heavy footsteps outside. He barely managed to take out his sword before Jackson opened his doors, holding his own sword up, his expression feral.

Jinyoung raised his sword with confusion, looking into the eyes of the king that took a step forward when Jinyoung took a step back.

“Jinyoung,” he said, changing his expression to a slightly calmer one, “there is a traitor on your balcony. He tried to kill me.”

Jinyoung didn’t dare look back at Jaebum’s bleeding figure. The only smart option was to let Jackson kill the half-blood and not say another word.

The prince held his sword more firmly and hardened his expression, stepping further back in Jaebum’s direction. Jackson chuckled humorlessly.

“Have it the way you want,” he said dryly and run to Jinyoung, his powerful swing connecting their swords.

Jinyoung couldn’t go to the side, in fear that Jackson would attack Jaebum. He could only parry the king’s attacks, each one more forceful, Jackson’s face frenzied as he drove Jinyoung to his knees, barely able to hold his guard up against the potent blows. This was not a practice fight, and by making daring attacks, Jinyoung would risk exposing himself too much, with dire consequences.

He realized he was going to die. He was going to be killed because he was stupid enough to become attached to a spy and a traitor, what an amazing end, one he deserved for sure, but not one he thought he would have. And he didn’t even consider giving up, how foolish this half-blood made him.

When he heard the whoosh of air next to his ear, his hope returned but it was short-lived. The blade Youngjae must have thrown, appearing suddenly at his window, bounced off of Jackson’s raised forearms, the same way Jinyoung’s sword got pushed away when he used the occasion to slash at the king’s unprotected middle. He looked up in shock to see Jackson’s abruptly green irises reflecting the light of the moon, that a moment later hid behind the clouds again, shrouding the room in semi-darkness.

Youngjae recovered from the bewilderment fast, throwing one knife after another in Jackson’s direction, and although it did him no harm, it made him step back enough for Jinyoung to stand up and attack him. Jackson was fighting back against them both, walking more into the room. They were unable to win against him, but maybe they would be able to overpower him enough to flee.

Youngjae seemed to think along the same lines as he jumped into the room and drew his curved, single-edged sword to fight Jackson head-on, his impossibly quick movements hard to parry even for the king.

“Jinyoung, escape!” he instructed.

Jinyoung looked in the direction of the door. To get out of the palace they would have to pass a multitude of guards outside, and while they probably didn’t know the situation, they would definitely stop them if they saw Jaebum in his current state.

There was another route, if Youngjae was here it meant there was a rope outside his window. It might have been their only way out, so he backed up, observing the vigorous struggle between Jackson and Youngjae. If the king’s body wasn’t somehow impermeable, Youngjae would have had a chance against him, he was ridiculously fast and precise, though the king was fierce, and Youngjae had to concentrate on dodging his attacks.

Jinyoung was preparing to use the moment when silver light filled the room once again and there were hands wrapping around his middle, forcing him further back. Jaebum managed to get them over the balcony rail, throwing them both down, holding onto Jinyoung’s body tightly. They didn’t really float, but Jinyoung guessed his power must have slowed their descent. The collision with the ground was painful, but he didn’t die, landing on his side next to Jaebum’s body, the pained gasp behind him enough to make him immediately stand up.

“Are you fine?” Jinyoung asked, kneeling down to examine Jaebum’s stomach. The weapon was still inside, but it has shifted a bit when they fell, the blood escaping faster now, the risk greater.

Jaebum laughed in answer, his pale, clammy face twisting.

“I’m great,” he answered, covering the hand on his stomach, “there’s no time for you to play doctor, we have to hide.”

Jaebum was right, but they were on the palace grounds. It was a miracle nobody approached them yet.

“Can you walk?” he asked, helping Jaebum up before he could answer.

Jaebum couldn’t actually, which became very apparent after a moment. Jinyoung realized carrying him would be faster, so he made Jaebum straddle his back and went as fast as he could in the direction of the graveyard. If they reached the tunnels, they would be safe and Youngjae would find them. That is, if he survived.

He was losing hope as he heard voices in the night, the guards patrolling the grounds. Jaebum covered his ears.

“What are you doing?” he asked, scared by the sudden silence.

“Trust me. I’ll make them sleepy,” Jaebum said uncovering his ears for a moment.

He didn’t want to process that Jaebum could to that, just as he didn’t want to think about everything that happened with Jackson. He just wanted to reach a safe place and check Jaebum’s injuries and that thought pushed him to reach the grave at the back in minutes, take the heavy lid off and help Jaebum down, before he went there himself, closing it again.

It took him a moment to feel around for the fire striker and a torch that he knew Youngjae must keep somewhere at the entrance. After he could see, he immediately started to check Jaebum’s wound.

He was astonished when he observed it, cutting off fragments of Jaebum’s shirt, feeling around the surrounding skin, holding in his nausea better than he thought he would at the fact that his hands were covered in blood. Right there, over the anterior superior iliac spine, possibly somewhere between the rectus sheath and oblique stomach muscles, this really wasn’t the worst place to get stabbed in. Well, there was no good place to get stabbed in the stomach, but this gave some chance of missing any vital internal parts. The blood around the blade was lighter than a damaged liver or ascending colon would suggest, and Jaebum wasn’t bleeding from the mouth. He fought with himself over it, but he needed to see how deep the wound was, he needed to know if the blood would gush and all hope was lost, because there was no way he would get medical help in this situation, and if the liver was damaged, Jaebum was as good as dead.

Jinyoung never thought he would be glad of having such a mother as his, but right now, the compelled lessons of dealing with injuries, the time he spent hiding away from her in his room, reading every book he could find, seemed like the biggest blessing he could have gotten. He took off his own shirt and rolled it into a ball, forcing his hand to be somewhat stable while he started to slowly remove the dagger, blocking the wound all the time with the material. Jaebum was grimacing the whole time, but he was otherwise pretty still. The bleeding wasn’t profuse, nor burgundy, there really was a possibility this was just a surface cut. He saw now that the blade was not whole, it was just a part of it, and upon throwing it away, he pressed the material firmly in the direction of the spine.

“Did Jackson stab you?” he asked with incredulity, finally regaining his voice, “how did he miss so significantly?”

Jinyoung would have known exactly where to strike to kill an opponent, all the more Jackson who was the best fighter in the kingdom. It wasn’t that this placement didn’t give a possibility of death, but a little higher and nothing would have been able to help Jaebum.

“He was confounded by my magic,” Jaebum said, his voice hoarse, “he hesitated.”

The heaviness of Jinyoung’s heart lifted. He didn’t know precisely how Jaebum’s power affected people, but if it could make Jinyoung withstand the sight of blood, even at this moment when he was not actively using it, than he was probably capable of making the king confused. The important thing was that it gave Jaebum high chances of survival if they just kept the blood flow shut down. 

Jinyoung put on a hopeful face and spoke up: “It’s going to be all right,” his voice was a little too high-pitched, “we just have to bandage the wound. You’re going to live.”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum got out, grabbing his trembling hand, “the blade was poisoned with the venom of the White-Corned Serpent. Even if you take care of the wound, it’s not going to help.”

Jinyoung could feel all the colour leave his face, the hope that bloomed in his heart crushed in seconds. _Lover’s Death_ – that’s how the people of Arulat called the poison made from the venom of the White-Corned Serpent, a name popularized by an epic poem about two lovers that took the poison to defy their feuding families. Even though the poem erroneously suggested that the poison killed instantaneously, its lethality was not a lie.

“There must be something -“

“The Moonstone, Jinyoung,” Jaebum got out with heavy gasps, “the Moonstone can heal me.”

Jinyoung watched Jaebum’s pale face with despair, squeezing the fabric over his bleeding stomach.

“I don’t know where it is,” Jinyoung whispered with dread.

“The Great Moving Desert. Tsagaan ruins,” Jaebum panted out before he lost consciousness.

Jinyoung shook him with panic. Jaebum was still breathing but his pulse was weakening. He would have to think about the poison later, for now, the only thing he could do was bandage the wound, which he did using his undershirt, leaving the upper part of his body completely naked. He also took off the remaining parts of the other’s shirt to execute the task, and Jaebum woke up while he was fixing the improvised bandage to hold his balled up shirt firmly against the wound. 

Jaebum looked at him and opened his mouth to say something but a scowl took over his mouth, his eyes closing as he hit the back of his head against the wall dramatically.

“What are you doing?” Jinyoung asked with fright, seeing the tears that started travelling down Jaebum’s cheeks.

He opened his eyes a bit to look at Jinyoung with possibly the saddest expression the prince had ever seen on another person.

“Forgive me,” Jaebum whispered, his voice broken, “I didn’t think. I shouldn’t have gone to you. I’m going to die either way, and I still forced you into danger.”

It was followed by a sob and Jaebum couldn’t hold himself back anymore, the sobs shook his body, as he bit his lips to stop them even a little. Jinyoung wanted to answer him, say anything, but his throat was choked up, the tears starting to escape his eyes as well. He could only bring Jaebum closer, hold him against himself in a tight embrace, the naked skin over-heated, the poison taking effect.

It was the picture that greeted Youngjae when he finally went down to the tunnel, Jinyoung gripping Jaebum tighter and lifting his sword in fear it was one of the guards. Youngjae had a cut on his shoulder, but otherwise, he seemed fine.

“Is this really the best moment?” Youngjae said with a self-satisfied smile, starting to provisionally wrap his injury.

“I had to bandage the wound,” Jinyoung answered, his voice weak from crying.

“You did that?” Youngjae looked at him, amazed, “aren’t you afraid of blood? Never thought you’d save somebody’s life.”

“I didn’t. He’s been poisoned with Lover’s Death.” Jinyoung said, looking at Jaebum who had fainted in his arms again.

Youngjae opened his mouth in shock before he sighed.

“Then why did you waste time bandaging him? He’s a dead man, you should have finished him off.”

“No,” Jinyoung answered, gritting his teeth.

“Jinyoung, there is no antidote. In three, maybe four hours, he _will_ die.”

“There is a way – the extract from the Sangern plant. The Sangern plant is proven to reverse the effects of the venom.”

Jinyoung had read about that, and he knew it was the only available solution. 

“You want to give him another poison? What for? To prolong the half-blood’s suffering?” Youngjae sounded reasonable but Jinyoung wasn’t about to let Jaebum die. Not if there was even a shadow of a chance.

“The Moonstone,” he said with vehemence, “it can save him.”

“We don’t know where it-“

“He told me it’s in the Great Moving Desert, in the ruins of Tsagaan city.”

Youngjae pushed out a disbelieving laugh.

“Well, there goes our chance.”

“We will find it,” Jinyoung answered, unbothered by Youngjae’s scandalized expression, “Jaebum will survive.”

“Listen, I know you like the half-blood but, even if, and that is a very big even, we somehow manage to get out of the City, cross the moving sands, and find that cursed stone, which is probably heavily protected, this guy will be dead by that time.”

“Find the medicine. We will meet in the shed,” Jinyoung answered, unwilling to talk further.

“Jinyoung-“

“Find it!”

Youngjae went further down the tunnel with a sullen expression, as Jinyoung took Jaebum’s heavy body onto his back and made his way slowly in the direction of their hiding place. His companion was right, of course. The ruins or the desert were not precise enough information to locate the Moonstone. Besides, they were now probably hunted throughout the city, even leaving it would be difficult, not to mention crossing the desert. Combined with the fact that Jaebum had a small chance to survive the journey, he wasn’t very optimistic.

He couldn’t consider letting Jaebum die, but even if they took that course of action, what did Youngjae plan? They were rejects now, they attacked the king. There was no other direction they could take.

It was at that moment that he vividly remembered the skirmish with Jackson and its confusing implications. When he reached the shed, he managed to shake Jaebum awake. This revelation was too great to wait.

“Jaebum, Jackson is-“

“Yes,” Jaebum answered, his voice weak but his eyes still alive, “he’s definitely of Moonblood.”

Jinyoung took a shaky breath, his hand pausing with the wet rag he used to chill Jaebum’s sweaty face. This cast things in a completely new light.

“But his eyes were green,” Jinyoung remembered, “surely he cannot be -”

“There was only one family with green eyes among the Dal Salam. Only the children of Dal, those of the lost line of Wang Yibo, had this colour.”

“It’s impossible,” Jinyoung exclaimed, “Jackson can’t actually be …”

“I’m afraid I can’t find another explanation. The power is in accordance with those of Dal’s descent.”

“So not only is Jackson a half-blood, he’s also the descendant of your legendary Queen-Deity?”

“Not just that,” Jaebum got out, his breathing getting heavier, “if Jackson is truly of the Wang line, that means he is the rightful heir to the Dal Salam throne.”

“Splendid,” Youngjae exclaimed, entering the shed and passing Jinyoung a vial with yellow liquid, “just what I wanted to hear about the guy that wants to end us all.”

Jinyoung didn’t wait and forced Jaebum’s head back, pouring the substance into his mouth. In a smaller quantity, the extract could work as a painkiller, but to fight off Lover’s Death, it would have to be taken again and again, until it was the Sangern that became lethal. And the first time it got introduced was the most dangerous because the dosage had to be borderline toxic. Jaebum coughed and looked disgusted, and Jinyoung covered his mouth and pulled on his hair to compel him to swallow the whole of it, stressed to the point of reprimanding him for acting like a child, but Youngjae chose the moment to speak up:

“We need to get out of here, it’s not safe. Can he move?”

“In a moment, I need to see if it worked first,” Jinyoung answered.

“How? By seeing if he drops dead or not?”

Sometimes, Youngjae’s sarcasm really got on his nerves.

“Let’s wait an hour. The poisons are going to fight inside his body, it will weaken him. This is hardly a place guards will come to check first.”

Youngjae sighed, stepping closer to him, “as you wish,” he said and startled Jinyoung by taking out the sword Jinyoung had haphazardly suspended on his belt, quickly pushing him away and pointing the sword at Jaebum’s lying form.

“Now, half-blood,” Youngjae addressed Jaebum, holding Jinyoung off with his left arm when he collided with the other to take the sword away, “we temporarily saved your life. It’s time you tell the whole truth.”


	17. The trials of dealing with lovesick fools

“Stop this at once, Youngjae!” Jinyoung demanded, his twisting while trying to take the sword from him hard to contain. Youngjae prevailed, knowing that Jinyoung would never get to the bottom of this if he babied the half-blood. They really deserved to know everything after Youngjae almost got obliterated by the king. And that terrifying brute even managed to get a slice in, that hasn’t happened to Youngjae since that one time he practiced blindfolded with Jinyoung. Really, it has been years since he had experienced the closeness of death so acutely, and he only managed to save himself thanks to the guard who entered the room and distracted Jackson for the split-second Youngjae needed to make his escape. 

Jaebum looked up at him, ignoring the sword pointed at his face. No wonder he was the one that got stabbed if that was his reaction to a blade.

“Your voice, you’re the one who warned me about the council,” Jaebum affirmed weakly, still not looking at the weapon.

“What?” Jinyoung exclaimed.

“There was no time to tell you,” he answered the prince, “I was trying to clear the half-blood’s way of escape, it’s fortunate that I managed to come back in time to see you getting attacked,” Youngjae explained, pushing Jinyoung off again before he could take away the sword, “And you!” he addressed Jaebum, “you were supposed to get away! How stupid can you get, half-blood?”

“My name is actually –“ Jaebum started but got cut off by Jinyoung,

“We could have hidden him! Kept him in the tunnels or somewhere,” Jinyoung said with vehemence, this time managing to take back his sword.

“He is _not_ our problem. I knew you’d be sad to see him die, so I tried to get rid of him, but revealing the existence of the tunnels to him? He can’t be trusted, Jinyoung.”

“Who are you, exactly?” Jaebum managed to get in their argument, his voice not very stable but a bit louder.

The half-blood looked as if he would die any second. Really, giving him the extract was a crazy idea, he had a chance to endure that only because he was young and fairly healthy, not counting that hole in his stomach. But if he did drop dead now it would save them a multitude of troubles. It would certainly be easier than trying to talk Jinyoung out of something.

“I’m the one who asks questions here, half-blood,” he spoke up, not letting Jinyoung say anything with a quick follow-up, “tell us who sent you. The Mage? The Tuan family?”

“Bambam was the one who sent me. He had imprisoned my brother to force me.”

They had suspected that the Mage was the one behind it, though he couldn’t care less about Jaebum’s motivations.

“Yugyeom?” Jinyoung inquired with surprise, “so everything that you said about being mistreated by him was untrue? And the cage?”

“It was temporary, to make Jackson pity and save me,” Jaebum explained, his face full of pain, “and yes, Yugyeom was never cruel to me. He has always treated me with love.”

“Why did Bambam pick _you_?” Youngjae asked. This was no time for sentimental stories about brotherhood, “I assume your mission was to recover the Moonstone, but why did Bambam go to the trouble of taking your brother as collateral? Just because of your pretty, human face? Because, honestly, you are terrible at being a spy, you’ve been here four months and got stabbed _and_ poisoned, still learning information not precise enough to be useful.” 

Maybe Youngjae was a little sullen about the half-blood finding something out in months, when he and Jinyoung had been trying to do that for five years, but he himself also wasn’t as willing to sleep with someone to obtain information, so there was that.

“Is it because of your powers?” Jinyoung asked, checking if Jaebum’s temperature was going down with a hand on his forehead, “how do they work? The ones besides floating?”

“I can use my voice to … persuade people.”

“Manipulate, you mean?” Youngjae added impatiently, “why didn’t you use it right away?”

“It’s not that easy. It requires time and trust, especially when something I want doesn’t correspond with what the other wants.”

“So when you were singing, my dreams –“ Jinyoung started saying.

“Yes, I can weave dreams. But it’s nothing bad, I swear!” Jaebum lifted a bit, catching onto Jinyoung’s arm.

“You can use this ability at daytime?”

“That’s right, it doesn’t matter if there’s moonlight or not.”

“When someone trusts you?” Jinyoung said incredulously, “I suspected you of being a spy from the beginning, how come you managed to stop me from panicking that time? I knew you were using some kind of magic.”

“And you let me,” Jaebum got out, “it doesn’t have to be complete trust, it was enough to believe I would not harm you. The conditions are variable.”

“So why did you fail so spectacularly with Jackson, yet still managed to get some information out of him?” Youngjae asked, starting to gather all that could be useful from the shed.

“My spell worked for a bit, but not long enough,” Jaebum answered shakily.

“You were a fool to even attempt it if your power is so unreliable,” Youngjae pronounced and Jaebum had no answer for that.

“Can you talk to animals too?” Jinyoung said suddenly, “you were instructing the bird in Dalhyo.”

“No, that was thanks to Yugyeom’s power. He put a spell on the bird to relay messages and tell me to escape, that he was alright.”

“Why didn’t you escape then?” Youngjae really couldn’t believe this half-blood.

“Because I had a chance to recover the Moonstone,” Jaebum answered, determination shining through his tired eyes, “you don’t understand how important it is for my people.”

“So that they can win the war and wipe us out?” Youngjae accused.

“No, I –“ Jaebum lifted himself more, “I never wanted the war! My father was human too, I don’t want Arulat’s destruction.”

“You say that, but how can we know you’re not lying? I bet you wish to avenge your parents’ deaths.”

“The Kim clan wanted peace. My brother and the Tuan clan are the ones who are keeping the war at bay.”

Youngjae stared at the half-blood suspiciously. While maybe not the best of liars from what Jinyoung had told him, Jaebum still managed to keep some things a secret and deceive the king. They couldn’t be sure what his intentions were.

Although, he probably didn’t have any strategy, after the previous one ended up about to cost him his life.

Jinyoung posed his hand gently on the half-bloods chin to tip it upwards, looking into his eyes, babying the man again.

“I think he will be fine for now, his gaze seems more present. Let’s move to the tunnel,” Jinyoung instructed Youngjae and they did exactly that.

It was safer in the tunnels. Jinyoung’s mother hadn’t known about them, the late King too wary of a sudden Yama tribe attack to let her learn the Park family’s secret, so there was little chance Jackson realized their existence. Even if he did, there were many exists throughout the whole of Arulat, and if someone didn’t know those channels well enough, they would just be lost in the maze. If Youngjae was to plan what to do next he would just hide in the tunnels until all this blew over and then find some way of escape.

It was hard to say what course of action the king would take, Jaebum being the unknown variable. The half-blood told them that he had poisoned the blade himself and the king was not aware of the fact, so Jackson couldn’t rule out the possibility of Jaebum surviving and trying to reach Dal to inform Bambam of what he knew. In that case, the most heavily guarded place would be the border between the countries. But the stab itself could as well have killed Jaebum, and in that case, Youngjae and Jinyoung became Jackson’s biggest problem, either by being aware of his Moonblood or assuming that Jaebum had told them the location of the Moonstone before he died. Without Jaebum, it was dubious the Dal Salam would accept and protect them, so they could either not do anything and try to escape, sell the information to someone, or, if they were mad, which they apparently were, try to find the Moonstone themselves.

So the king could either try to stop them on their way, or go to the ruins, assuming he knew their exact location, and wait for their very improbable arrival there.

Consequently, Youngjae was currently stealing clothes, food, medicine, anything they would need for this foolish quest, the vexing conversation with Jinyoung fresh in his mind.

“The easiest way to the desert,” Jinyoung had said, after he made a provisional map from branches and leaves, “would be to travel through the grasslands, going around the mountains.”

“Yes?” Youngjae followed with his eyes the trail that Jinyoung made with his sword.

“Exactly, so we must avoid that road at all costs,” Jinyoung said, pointing the tip of the sword back to Arulat.

“Makes sense,” Youngjae answered sarcastically, although he knew the reason why they couldn’t take the route. There were sure to be guards there.

“So the only other option is to go through the mountains,” Jaebum spoke up, walking over to stand beside the makeshift map.

“Yes, and more precisely, we shall go through the mountain pass right-“ Jinyoung moved the blade.”-here”

Youngjae knew there was no other way unless they went by sea, but it was even less possible. Still, he had to comment, because very soon, he could be dead if that was Jinyoung’s plan.

“You want to go through Yama tribe’s territory?” he made sure to put as much of his doubt into his voice as he could, “have you lost your mind, Jinyoung?”

“The tribe lives higher up. They are unlikely to notice three people passing through, and Jackson probably won’t think we’d take that route.”

“What happens if by some miracle we reach the damned desert? How will we find the ruins?”

“We will think about that later,” Jinyoung answered as if that was the normal thing to do when embarking on a journey that was sure to end in their demise, “we have to move out as soon as possible, we can’t sit here and think.”

“Fine, I’m all for this plan,” Youngjae answered, causing both Jinyoung and Jaebum to stare at him, “just one thing. The half-blood stays.”

Youngjae had a small chance to survive the journey, Jinyoung as well, but the injured and poisoned half-blood’s chances were zero.

“The whole point is to save him,” Jinyoung answered irately.

“He will be a burden to us,” Youngjae answered just as heatedly, “maybe he will live that long, maybe not, but we have a bigger chance to find the stone without him and return, then heal him. The Moonstone is magical right? Maybe it can just transport us back if we get a hold of it.”

For now, the wound on his stomach would be the most problematic, but once the Sangern started being toxic, that would hinder their travel.

“Youngjae’s right,” Jaebum replied, stepping closer to Jinyoung, “I could try to return to my country. If not you, maybe Bambam will be able to find the stone and return in time.”

Jinyoung grabbed Jaebum’s arm with an expression that already said what he was thinking.

“I will not risk it. I’m taking you with me,” was Jinyoung’s answer and he was too determined to let Jaebum negate it.

When Youngjae returned from his scavenging, he threw the things he collected down on the floor next to that pretty-faced excuse of a spy, but Jaebum did not wake up. It was Jinyoung who jumped in fright.

“This is not why we started looking for the stone,” he lectured the prince, turning his surly expression to him, “is the half-blood more important than your father?”

“One does not exclude the other,” Jinyoung answered, standing up to observe the supplies, “my father is dead, but Jaebum still lives. He has better prospects.”

“Jinyoung –“

“You don’t have to go, Youngjae,” Jinyoung said gently, “you have done so much for me already. You were always free, I told you, the debt you think you have was repaid. Let this be the moment we part ways.”

Youngjae wasn’t about to let Jinyoung go and get himself killed. Not without him. He would even protect the half-blood, as long as Jinyoung longed for him and Jaebum didn’t try to harm the prince.

“Don’t make me angry,” he barked back, still, unfortunately, not waking the half-blood, “you know I will go, you’re just saying this not to feel guilty when we stand side-by-side on our execution. I’m coming with you and I intend to complain every step of the way.”

Jinyoung laughed, although nothing in this situation was especially funny.

They set out the next day, leaving by the furthest exit of the tunnels in the countryside, reaching it by night. It was a short way from there to the edge of the forest, getting swallowed by its darkness. Next was up into the mountains. 


	18. A concerned intruder

_Seven had greeted her,_

_seven watch over her,_

_seven will bid her goodbye._

_When the darkness approaches_

_look towards salty waters._

_Beware of the lost one,_

_hide when the wind comes,_

_silver will be his head,_

_birdsong ends the bloodshed._

Mark hated prophecies made by Tseringma, she really had no poetic talent whatsoever, and yet, all of her predictions were written in that format. This particular poem, made by her some two hundred years ago, was the last one that the seer gave before her death as a very old woman, and many thought that it was foreshadowing the end of the Dal Salam nation.

There were some that, after the Moonstone was stolen, felt the prediction can help in finding it. The ‘her’ that the seven had greeted, watched over, and were to bid farewell to, referred quite obviously to Dal, the seven being the noble lines, although now there were only six. The Bhuwakul and the Kim clans had the belief that the Wang family would yet return, not allowing for another bloodline to take the throne, so maybe, there would still be seven lines when their world came to an end. The ‘approaching darkness’ could be anything from the night to a synonym for evil. The next part - ‘salty waters’ was the fragment that made the Dal Salam think it might be directions to finding Dal. They were surrounded by water, it was an island after all, but if you took the ‘seven watching over’ more directly, it could refer to the seven small islands to the south. There had been excursions there, one of them known for its tragic end, but they found nothing.

The second part told them even less. ‘Lost one’ - that could refer to Dal, but why would they be wary of her? Maybe it meant to look out for her, protect her? Maybe they had already changed the course of fate when they didn’t manage to stop the humans from taking her? The ‘wind’, that was what had almost destroyed their first kingdom, was it supposed to finish them for good? Where would they even hide from wind? A ‘silver head’ man, there were many Dal Salam with white hair, it didn’t narrow down the possibilities that much, and the poem didn’t even tell what he was supposed to represent, just that there will be someone with a silver head. Was the ‘lost one’ supposed to have silver hair? But then it couldn’t mean Dal, so it just confused things more. The ‘birdsong ending the bloodshed’ that didn’t help anything either. ‘Bloodshed’ could refer to the coming war with Arulat, but it didn’t even begin properly for now and the ‘birdsong’, whatever that might mean, was supposed only to end it.

Mark closed the book with exasperation. Even Bambam didn’t believe the prophecy referred to their current situation anymore, not after naught could be found on or around the seven islands. Mark was reaching loose ends going through these useless books, but he itched for any kind of occupation. He had the impression that something had to happen now. For over three months, Bambam has been engaged in his ‘negotiations’ with the king of Arulat to return Yugyeom and Jaebum to them. The king had apparently called for their complete surrender, to which Bambam obviously couldn’t agree, had not even had the authority to, so the talks were apparently ‘ongoing’, the clans getting more and more impatient with it, while Bambam seemed to drown in his sorrow over his parting with Yugyeom, which, Mark was sure, would be played into turning into a rage that would start the war. 

Mark didn’t want the war, simply because he didn’t want to lose it. And they would certainly be defeated without the Moonstone, he was sure that the humans had found some use for its magic and not just let it sit idly in their hands. Whoever had the Moonstone had the winning hand, so Mark had to find it somehow, and what’s more, he had to find it before Bambam, if he wanted to set the rules of the game. There were other ways than war, he was sure, but if it came to that, he had to be certain they would win it, and, ideally, thanks to him.

He wasn’t Bambam, he didn’t want Arulat’s destruction. No, he wanted to _rule_ over Arulat, over Dal, over the whole island. There was no difference: humans, Dal Salam - subjects were subjects, and the more one had, the more power it meant. One thing Bambam didn’t understand was that it wasn’t potent magic that made one the most influential. 

Unfortunately, Bambam seemed to be steps ahead of him with his mysterious dealings. What was more worrying was that the Mage had not arrived at the gathering today, and even though it was just about some small matter, Bambam wasn’t one to overlook his duties. Someone had to pay the Mage a visit, and that someone would be him.

The Bhuwakul estate was, in fact, just an old-fashioned castle. It’s imposing black structure stood stark against the blue lines of its protective cage, as uninviting as possible. It was the safest stronghold in Dal from the time Bambam had learned to make and maintain a protective cover big enough to contain it. The Mage was the only one who could pass through the lines of light, but there had to be an entrance besides that, and Mark knew it, he had been here before. Even though Bambam kept little servants here, they still had to go out from time to time.

He imagined the man would just let him in, and the fact he didn’t want to was already proof enough that something was dodgy. Mark was from the governing clan, the guard had a duty to obey him.

“Just go and tell the Mage to see me,” he repeated impatiently.

“I’m sorry sir, my master cannot see you now. I will relay the message and he will go to you. Please, kindly return to the palace.”

Mark was irritated. He was prepared for the possibility but he hoped it would not come to that. He had no actual right to trespass the Bhuwakul grounds uninvited, this could get him into serious trouble, but Bambam was suspicious and that would be his main argument when his grandmother berated him for it later.

He reached into his pocket, grabbing a handful of sparkling dust.

“Fine, just go and give him this,” Mark said, lifting his closed fist, the guard reaching up, but Mark placed it before his own lips and blew it into the guard’s face, the surprised man unwittingly breathing it in.

The shenqui dust would not hurt him, it would just make him lose consciousness for a small period of time. It was a very rare and exclusive item, the Tuan clan’s prosperity definitely aiding Mark in his quest of breaking the law. He caught the guard before he fell to the ground, putting him gently down and taking the key to the heavy doors from his neck.

The guard who was behind the door didn’t dare to outright assault him and seemed very confused about how he should react, so Mark treated him the same way he did the previous one. He started looking through the huge, empty estate, and when he met a servant, he openly asked her where Bambam was and said that the Mage called for him. She told him, disoriented, that he was at the terrace. Now, he had to hurry before she went to call the other guards.

He stayed behind the corner when he reached the entrance to the terrace, choosing to observe the situation first. Bambam was not there, but in the middle of the floor, catching the moonlight, was a circle made of lapis lazuli gems. That meant Bambam was sneaking through dimensions. That, in turn, meant he would be greatly weakened when he appeared again, so if he chose to attack Mark, he would have a chance against the Mage, theoretically.

He was thrown off when he saw another figure, that walked into Mark’s line of vision, passing again to the other side of the terrace. Yugyeom! Why was Yugyeom here? According to Bambam he had been kidnapped by the king, and Mark had already written him off as tragically dead.

Currently, Mark wasn’t so sure about the situation. By deceiving the gathering, Bambam had committed a wrongdoing, and one of their oldest laws stated that: ‘be they a ruler or a commoner, if a Dal Salam misuse their power, the seven clans have a duty to contain them’, so this gave Mark the right to condemn him. If Bambam was somehow keeping Yugyeom here, then he should help him, but what if Yugyeom had been in onto the Mage’s plans? What if they attacked Mark for discovering it? He might have a chance with his tired cousin, but not against him and Yugyeom together. He didn’t like to believe they would really try to kill him but what if they decided to get rid of a problematic onlooker and cover it as some dreadful accident?

No, that was a ludicrous idea. Even for Bambam just killing his relative was improbable, but Yugyeom being a murderer? Yet this state of affairs seemed nefarious and it was better to observe for now.

Bambam did finally appear, landing heavily on his hands and knees in the circle of gems. When he raised his head, Mark could see the trail of blood that escaped his nose. Yugyeom ran to the Mage, holding onto his arms in a flustered fashion, helping Bambam get up.

“I can’t find him,” Bambam spoke with agitation, “he doesn’t answer my calls.”

“Maybe he finally discarded your foolish mission and fled,” Yugyeom answered, using his sleeve to wipe the blood off Bambam’s face harshly, the Mage pushing his hand away. 

“There’s something going on there, some kind of commotion. The king appears not to be in the palace.”

“If something happened to my brother –“

“What happened?” Mark chose the moment to leave his hiding place, tired with watching those two argue, _yet again,_ “where is Jaebum?”

Jaebum had better not be dead because he owned Mark a _fortune_ in lost bets. It didn’t matter that Mark could create gold if he wanted to, this was a matter of principle and noble honor. 

Both of them stared at him in astonishment, Bambam looking as if he would attack him at any moment. Mark reached into his pocket, preparing the dust. He didn’t want to actually harm either of them, so his magic was out of the question, but he couldn’t assume the same kindness on their side.

“What are you –“ Bambam started asking but got shushed by Yugyeom.

“Be silent. You too, Mark,” he turned to him, warning with his eyes and turning to the side again.

“Deactivate the covers, Bam,” he demanded, “I can’t hear the bird well from here.”

“What?” Bambam asked with as much understanding as Mark had.

“It’s a message from Jaebum,” Yugyeom explained impatiently, “deactivate them, now!”

Bambam hesitated only for a moment before waving his hand to make the lines of light disappear, letting a white canary pass through.

“How did you even manage to send it?” Bambam asked.

“Hid in servant's clothing,” Yugyeom explained distractedly, letting the bird land on his outstretched palms.

The bird trilled something and Yugyeom looked at it anxiously.

“What did it say? Where’s Jaebum?” Mark asked hurriedly.

“I don’t know,” Yugyeom raised his worried eyes, “it just said: ‘the Moonstone is in Tsagaan ruins, in the Great Moving Desert. Hurry up, Yugyeom.’ That’s all.”


	19. The tempestuous night

There was a brief discussion on whether they should inform the other clans and organize an expedition with a larger number of participants, but Yugyeom felt that time was of the essence here and they had to set out immediately. It would take much longer if others were involved, the gathering discussing this and that, and anyway, it was a risk to leave Dal with a smaller number of protectors. Bambam was like an army in himself, him going away was already a risk if Arulat decided to attack when he was away. They decided to leave a message with Bambam’s servants, that would reach the head of the Tuan clan when they were already on their way. Mark agreed only on the condition that they would take him along.

It was a Kim family’s ship they took, his people not having the time to be surprised by his reappearance when he told them to prepare a crew in half a day, Bambam’s staff already running around to prepare all they would need for the journey. He set free all of the various birds in Kim and Bhuwakul estates, ordered most of them to look throughout the desert for any sign of ruins or travelers. He also sent the few corvids that remembered his brother’s face to look through Arulat, he wasn’t sure where Jaebum might be. According to the white canary his brother was injured the last time it saw him, so he just hoped Jaebum was holding himself together somewhere. It would take three days to sail to the Nangtteoleoji cove, which was the best place to cross through the high mountains and reach the Great Moving Desert directly, even though they had no actual idea where to go from there.

The captain warned him there was a storm brewing but there was no time to wait, they had to push through. Bambam could not actually protect them from a tempest, but at least they would be safe from lightning. Although, if it didn’t pass, they would have to wait to approach land.

Yugyeom didn’t usually feel uneasy on boats but this time he couldn’t forget how his mother died, even though it had nothing to do with storms. It wasn’t just his mother too, his grandfather, his aunt and uncle, his cousins, there was more than one Kim on the boat that was attacked by that Arulat vessel. The members of the Kim clan were looking, once again, around the seven islands for the Moonstone, they didn’t even know that the human Queen had been murdered. They were just killed on their way back because they were the only Dal Salam the kingdom of Arulat could reach. Nobody from their ship survived, some of the second ship’s crew managing to save themselves and bring the news to him. He and Jaebum had been paralyzed by loss. They had wanted so much to go on the trip with their mother but she didn’t agree, saying that someone of Kim blood had to stay and look after family affairs, and that it was best they both remained to look after each other as well. At eighteen, Yugyeom didn’t feel ready enough to became the head of his clan, even though he was being schooled to fit that role for a long time. Yugyeom’s father, who paid little attention to him before, having to look after his other children, had come to accompany them for a little while, but he was a merchant, he was never involved in the political affairs. Jaebum wasn’t especially helpful as well, the first weeks he barely spoke to anyone. He didn’t blame his older brother for struggling to deal with losing both of his parents, and Jaebum, while lacking when assisting with practical matters, provided his own kind of melancholic emotional support, sleeping in Yugyeom’s bed, singing soft, sad melodies that helped Yugyeom free the tears he was holding up at nighttime.

Yugyeom had wished he had sunk down along with his mom. After that, he had to become her, he had to lead the clan and stop the war that was closer than ever. The chaos and despair of the other clans were mirror images of what was happening inside him, as if his emotions were seeping out into the world. He felt deeply Bambam’s rage, the Tuan clan’s head worry, lady Mokoe’s grief, and he had to silence it all in order to follow in his mother’s footsteps. Lord Kijung had said that there was always another way, sometimes it was just too difficult, so people chose war. Yugyeom managed to prevent the clans from attacking Arulat but he still could not see the other path that they should take. He felt ashamed of himself for the satisfaction at seeing Arulat ships getting destroyed by Bambam, who made sure none of the human vessels would ever leave the harbor again.

He always found his worst urges exposed by Bambam – anger, aggression, thirst for revenge, as well as desire and greed.

Yugyeom tried to forget about Bambam lying about them being destined for each other but once the thought took root in his mind it didn’t leave, even though he had much more important matters to focus on, like saving Jaebum and finding the Moonstone. He was no longer a prisoner in the Bhuwakul estate, but his freedom was unavoidably restricted to the expanse of the ship. His proximity to Bambam didn’t lessen, and even though now he had additional people to converse with, other than the Mage and the sparse servants in the estate, his attention was always, inevitably on him.

It wasn’t like the thought never crossed his mind. From the moment he met Bambam, he felt the young Bhuwakul heir was different from the other children and that he would become someone special to him. Of course, at that time, he didn’t have any ideas about romance or Ling Yibans. He simply grew to love Bambam as his friend and he hoped to spend as much time as he could with him.

By teenage years, Jaebum had started taking interest in other people, and Yugyeom got to know about flirtation and matters of the flesh by his proxy. He gained a kind of awareness in Bambam’s company, as well as seeking out adventures of his own, too fearful to approach the Mage, who had gained his title by the age of sixteen and seemed disinterested in anything relating to love affairs. But Yugyeom could never understand what was so enjoyable about occasional lovers the way his brother had, and that was when he started considering how wonderful an idea of one person you devoted your life to seemed.

However, he was the future head of the clan and his mother had taken a point to remind him of the circumstance. Yugyeom believed she did it unconsciously, but when, enamored with the idea of having a Ling Yiban, he asked her why she had not bonded with lord Kijung, he was taken aback when she answered it would have been irresponsible of her as the clan leader to do so.

In this way, he found out how selfish his desires were. He didn’t want to admit to himself that all the times he imagined his perfect destined partner, Bambam was there in his mind. The only thing more egotistical than ridding the Kim family of his potential children, was wanting to have the last Bhuwakul for his own.

Of course, Bambam would have never agreed to it anyway. By the time Yugyeom’s mother was killed, they were on such different political grounds, and had had so many arguments, that Bambam would no longer call him even a friend, let alone allow Yugyeom to be anything more. Besides, Bambam took no lovers, even though the whole Tuan clan expected it of him. There were many that sought after him, mostly because of his position, though his attractiveness certainly didn’t hurt them. Bambam had long outgrown the awkward childishness of his features that accompanied his teenage years, transformed into a stunning creature, a fact that he never failed to accentuate with luxurious clothes and jewellery. Only because he was unapproachable, seemingly cold and intimidating, the Dal Salam of their age were hesitant with their courtships, but Bambam would have his pick if he only wanted. It was foolish of Yugyeom to even view him in this light, so he vowed to concentrate on his duties and stop being a child. He had to lead his clan, and help run the country, he had his hands full.

That’s why Bambam treating this so lightly infuriated him. He had no respect for Yugyeom’s feelings whatsoever, he definitely didn’t, as he entered the cabin where Yugyeom was pouring over old maps and texts about Tsagaan city taken from Bambam’s estate, his figure completely drenched from the rain, his hair sticking to his forehead, his wet tunic leaving nothing for the imagination.

“Why are you soaked?” Yugyeom asked with irritation.

“Rain makes my mind clear,” Bambam answered, unbothered by any of it.

Yugyeom stood up and decided that getting soaked in the rain while escaping the room was definitely better than staying with Bambam when he looked like this. Because Yugyeom’s self-control consisted of running away.

“Where are you going?” Bambam asked, standing on his way, “did you find anything useful?”

“It’s late,” Yugyeom said taking a step back.

“Wait a moment, I will help you look through those books,” Bambam said, reaching up to unbutton the wet shirt.

Yugyeom averted his eyes, unsure how to flee. He saw Bambam naked before, years ago, but it was completely different when they were children, though Bambam seemed as unbothered as if they still were.

“Must you be so unaware?” Yugyeom threw out, looking everywhere but at Bambam.

He heard a chuckle that made him look up and swallow when he saw the wet skin between the unbuttoned fabric. Yugyeom was half certain trying to touch it would end up in him being electrocuted.

“It’s not that I’m unaware,” Bambam answered with a subtle smirk, “I just wanted to see your reaction.”

Yugyeom clenched his fist, looking straight into Bambam’s eerily bright eyes.

“It’s unfitting of a nobleman to play someone like that.”

“And they say _I’m_ too serious,” Bambam joked, “fine, be a gentleman and pass me something to wipe myself with,” he said, taking his shirt completely off.

Before Yugyeom could comply, the doors opened and he instinctually stepped forward, grabbing Bambam and turning them around, concealing Bambam’s body from the view of whoever entered. His impulses didn’t allow him to let other people see the Mage in this state of undress.

It was Mark, who looked in their direction with a blank face.

“I apologize for interrupting you two. Come to see me when you’re – done?” he said, trying feebly to hide his amusement, but ultimately failing, before he closed the door again.

Yugyeom couldn’t believe that this embarrassment made Bambam laugh straight into his shoulder, his body fitting itself against Yugyeom, his hands tightening in the material of Yugyeom’s shirt on his back. He tried to shove Bambam away but that only resulted in him touching his naked, wet body.

“It’s really not that funny,” he said petulantly, failing to put any sort of safe distance between them.

“I can’t believe you wanted to protect my honor with this,” Bambam said between his sniggers, “and from my cousin, really? What did you think people would imagine if they saw you embracing me when I’m half-naked?”

“It was an accident!”

Yugyeom wanted to be angrier, but seeing Bambam laugh, honestly, fully, in a way he hasn’t since they were much younger, made him smile despite himself.

When they reached the other side of the ship, Mark told them excitedly that he had possibly figured out where the ruins were.


	20. Prince Jinyoung

The wound on Jaebum’s stomach hurt all the time, made worse by their constant moving forward, but he didn’t dare tell Jinyoung. Whenever Jinyoung noticed that he was not feeling well, he would call for a break, and they had no time for things like these, they had to hurry, for Jaebum’s sake most of all. But when he didn’t tell Jinyoung, and the prince saw that the state of the wound wasn’t improving while changing his bandages, Jaebum got a lecture, so he had to learn to recognize when it was just normal pain and when it was dangerous. The Sangern helped a bit with dulling the ache, though in another week or so it would become the cause of it.

Jaebum never saw a forest of this type. In Dal, the closest thing to it were Callitris Forests, but those were small, you’d need maybe two hours to go through the biggest one. The coniferous forests here seemed never-ending, and the trees were so tall, it gave him the impression of being in a completely different world. He imaged it would be colder here, but it was still pretty hot even despite the shadow the trees provided, although much more humid. He was delighted when he saw a wild deer for the first time, though his joy passed when Youngjae made it their dinner. He wasn’t going to complain about it because it tasted better than dried meat from their provisions. Anyway, the forest was full of life, he saw a lot of deer since then, as well as foxes, squirrels, and woodpeckers. He was just glad they didn’t come across a bear or wolves. 

The march got harder when they started going up, the mountains here forested and not as high as the ones more to the east or west, but still challenging. Jinyoung too, was not used to travelling by foot, or indeed travelling at all, as he told Jaebum, though he was holding up well. Jaebum would enjoy seeing the completely different scenery if the situation was different, but mostly, he felt tired and sore. They made breaks only to eat and sleep, and pain and exhaustion were the first things he felt when he woke up from resting on the cloak set on the hard ground.

Jinyoung slept alongside him, unaccountably close, both of them occupying the small space of the cloak. The first time the prince had lain down behind him, only a little distance away from his back, Jaebum had been a little jumpy.

“I hope you don’t mind, it’s safer that way,” Jinyoung explained, his muted, disembodied voice filling Jaebum’s ears, “and you probably know I have problems falling asleep.”

“Do you want me to sing to you?” Jaebum proposed, trying to turn around, but Jinyoung’s hand on his back stopped the movement.

“No, you need rest the most.”

The hand left and Jinyoung became once again just an aura of presence and heat beside him. Although, in the course of the night, their bodies usually moved closer and it took Jaebum all of three nights to become used to having Jinyoung’s figure so close.

He knew they needed the rest, but there were times when he couldn’t stop himself from talking to Jinyoung. Once, plagued by the guilt of what he caused the prince to do, he turned around, his surely pitiful expression hidden by the darkness, while he could freely observe Jinyoung’s face. The Dal Salam could see in the dark much better than humans.

“Jinyoung?”

The prince opened his eyes. He wasn’t asleep yet, Jaebum knew by the sound of his breathing.

“Yes?”

“I-“ Jaebum swallowed. Jinyoung might not see him, but he could hear everything, thus Jaebum had to control himself, “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that you have to be here. If not for me, you’d be in your room, safely reading a book.”

“Reading books is not all I want to do in my life, Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, side-tracking, “I’ve just been unable to do anything else. I felt – like nothing could be interesting or good since my father’s death. I was hiding from the world.”

“I understand that,” Jaebum admitted, moving a bit closer to the prince, “I had removed myself from the Dal Salam problems in a way. I let my younger brother deal with all the responsibilities. I felt too weak to be of use.”

“You’re not weak, Jaebum,” Jinyoung answered, “you haven’t given up still.”

“Neither have you. Saving my life so bravely and selflessly.”

“It wasn’t selfless,” the prince whispered. He looked down at Jaebum’s lips, though Jaebum wasn’t sure if his eyes had gotten used to the dark now, “you’re more fascinating than books.”

Jaebum tried not to make the intake of his breath obvious. Whenever Jinyoung exposed his affection for him, his chest hurt. It was yet another thing he was guilty of.

“If you were not hiding from the world,” he changed the topic, “what would you like to do?”

“I like learning, but I don’t want to learn by books alone. I want to see and hear, and taste - and touch.”

Jinyoung was really testing him that night.

“What would you like to see?”

“Other places, other lands. Of course, I had no possibility in these times but I’m not sure I would have been brave enough to do it anyway. I want to know the world, find the knowledge that was prohibited, that people on this island don’t realize.”

Jaebum went quiet. No wonder Jinyoung was so interested in him, he knew things the prince didn’t.

“I guess,” Jinyoung spoke again, “we could say I am exploring an unknown world now.”

He smiled and Jaebum moved to hide his face beneath his hair, his forehead touching Jinyoung’s arm.

He was so used to Jinyoung’s presence when he slept, that he went into instant panic when he woke up and the prince wasn’t there. His heart was thundering in his ribcage when he heard blades meeting and only when he stood up to run in the direction, and saw that it was only Jinyoung and Youngjae practicing, did he calm down. He was amazed they still had the strength to do that, he was barely able to walk forward day after day.

He didn’t understand, at all, who Youngjae was. Jinyoung trusted him, so Jaebum was not exactly wary of the man, although, perhaps he should be. It seemed that Youngjae was an expert at everything from fighting and stealing stuff, to hunting and foraging. The only two things that he was apparently unable to do were calling Jaebum by his name and telling the truth about himself.

Once, when asked who he was, Youngjae shocked him by saying he was Jinyoung’s secret brother. The snort that followed was the only thing that made Jaebum realize he was making a fool out of him. Another time, he said he was a spy sent by the Liao nation to slowly overtake Arulat. Yet, on other occasions, he told Jaebum he had been trained by the desert dwellers to kill from childhood, that he was raised by forest spirits, that he was actually just a simple country boy, moved by the illusion of grandeur when he saw the royal family.

Exasperated by the answers that got more and more incredulous, he implored Jinyoung to just tell him, but his answer wasn’t much clearer.

“If he doesn’t want to tell you himself, I shouldn’t either,” Jinyoung smiled at Jaebum’s irritation, “he’s a friend, I guess? Anyway, you don’t have to worry about him, he won’t hurt you.”

Jaebum finally accepted that he would probably never find out. 

Youngjae’s life philosophy was also complicated, though Jaebum couldn’t say he wasn’t starting to comprehend it. Sharing his moral dilemmas with Youngjae in the first place was a bizarre idea, but he was less bothered by his opinion than he would be by Jinyoung’s.

“I shouldn’t have done that. Jackson had not attacked me yet, it was not protection, it was assault.”

“I’d say that was the _only_ smart thing you did, half-blood. You couldn’t have known he had magic to protect himself. Attacking first is the principle of survival.”

“What sort of principle is that? If that was the case, every murder would be excusable.”

“I don’t care about being excused. I care about living,” Youngjae said, lighting up the fire.

“Still, I don’t understand. Jackson had done so much good, helped so many people, but …”

He didn’t reveal to Jinyoung that Jackson was responsible for his father’s murder, he wasn’t sure how to process this information himself. Jackson was a half-blood, just like him, and still, he had organized the event that had placed Dal Salam’s lives at risk, that had started the purge. It had caused Jaebum’s father’s death as well.

“The way I see it, half-blood, there are no good or bad people. There are only people we want to protect and those we don’t. I want to protect Jinyoung, Jinyoung wants to protect you, you want to protect your brother. Jackson, as well, has people he wants to protect. There are those who only care about themselves, but protecting others doesn’t necessarily make us better beings. Sometimes, it makes the situation worse, as in your case.”

Jaebum was haunted by those words afterward. Who was in the right here? Him, Jinyoung, Bambam, Jackson? He didn’t feel qualified to judge any of this, he still didn’t understand why all of this had happened.

***

It was very optimistic of them to assume they would reach the mountain pass and go through without any problems. Apparently, Jackson had predicted the possibility of them selecting that road, because as soon as they got there, they were assaulted by Arulat soldiers.

Jaebum had thought that their trip was over but he really had accounted for neither Youngjae nor Jinyoung. It was twelve against two, Jaebum uselessly holding the knife Youngjae had given him, knowing that he had little hope against a spear or a sword, but none of those things ever reached him. Youngjae was just terrifying, he killed three people simply throwing knives at them while still being able to protect himself. Jaebum kind of expected that of him, after he survived Jackson’s assault, but he didn’t predict Jinyoung was that good of a fighter. After seeing him getting overpowered by Jackson, he assumed Jinyoung was a decent swordsman, nothing more, but the guards had little chance against him. Jaebum felt secure behind his back.

It was horrifying to watch Jinyoung swipe his sword and cut someone’s throat, the blood droplets splattering on his face. Jaebum was close to him and saw it with sickening clarity but he reined in his emotions when he saw Jinyoung’s hand tremble. If Jinyoung got too distracted by his fear, the other men would be able to hurt him, Jaebum already noticed that his strikes were weaker than before.

“Jinyoung, focus!” he shouted and the prince glanced at him, tightening the hold on his sword and cutting down another guard who started approaching Jaebum.

They were down to five against two when an arrow flew right into one of the soldiers' faces. The soldiers started to chaotically back away and Jinyoung sheathed his own sword, running to Jaebum and covering his mouth.

“Don’t try to use your powers, they will stick your head on a stake if they find out who you are,” Jinyoung instructed him gravely, taking the hand off only when Jaebum nodded, frightened by the other’s forcefulness.

He watched as both, Youngjae and Jinyoung raised their hands in surrender, while the guards were being killed by arrows, trying to make their escape and getting blocked off by horseman that emerged from the trees, cutting them down without mercy. Jaebum raised his own hands alongside them.

The figures on horses that swarmed them were all dressed in skins and had long braided hair, darker skin and wore kohl around their eyes. Some made menacing expressions, but most just ogled them with vulgar smirks. They made way for one rider, a girl not older than eighteen, who Jaebum had seen driving a blade through a guard’s cheek. 

“Congratulations thieves,” she spoke to them, “you almost managed to escape.”

Jaebum opened his mouth to say something by Jinyoung looked at him forebodingly.

“Give away your weapons and nothing will happen to you,” she demanded, and to Jaebum’s shock Jinyoung and Youngjae obeyed, giving their weapons to another rider and so Jaebum also gave away his unused knife.

It was bewildering to watch this young girl tell everyone what to do and they all listened, she had to be the leader here. They were pushed into a small, wooden cage with wheels and he still didn’t quite understand what was going on. Youngjae had just killed four trained soldiers but he had given up against these people without a fight. He figured it must be the Yama tribe but still, couldn’t they have tried to get away while the guards were being killed?

“What will happen to us?” Jaebum asked Jinyoung in a low voice.

“Most probably? We will become slaves, either sold to other mountain tribes or working for the Yama tribe.” It went without saying that Jaebum would die by that time either way.

“What?” Jaebum gasped, “but slavery is impermissible in Arulat.”

Jaebum knew this, not only because of living there for a while, but historically, it has never been allowed, neither was it tolerated in Dal. The first ruler, the one from whom the kingdom of Arulat got its name, had been a slave in Liao, as were most of the people who escaped by boat to the island. The powerful Liao nation had followed their property, but did not account for the persistence of these people, nor did they expect they would be aided by magic-possessing Dal Salam, that did not take kindly to anyone invading their island and trying to hurt humans that had helped them in need before. He remembered Jackson explaining to him that the Yama tribe, while long removed from the Arulat nation, became a part of it again after Jinyoung’s mother had married the King.

“That’s right, sweet face,” the warrior girl said, approaching the cage, “but here is not Arulat, so don’t try to file a complaint to your rotten council. You don’t have to worry,” she cooed, lifting his chin with the hilt of her sword, “someone like you, I doubt they will take you for strenuous work. They wouldn’t want to destroy your body,” she laughed, leering.

Alright, so maybe Yugyeom was right and he did glare, sometimes. Not that the girl was impressed.

“Ha, what a look! Want to bite off my fingers, little tiger?”

If he could bite off her fingers, he would have. He was much bigger and wider than her, he didn’t appreciate being called little by this child.

When she went a bit further away, he leaned down in Jinyoung’s direction to whisper.

“How good are you with a sword?” he asked the prince, observing the impudent girl, “would you be able to defeat her alone?”

“I don’t know, Jaebum. For her position in the Yama tribe and being so young, she must be a fierce fighter. You saw me, I’m weaker than Jackson, slower than Youngjae.”

Jaebum nodded. Form what he knew of the tribe, they valued strength and pride. This was a massive risk but everything in this journey was, and once these people got them higher up into the mountains, it would be even harder to escape from a bigger number of them.

“You!” he called to the girl loudly, “do you even know who you had the audacity to kidnap?”

Jinyoung turned to him in alarm and Jaebum covered the prince’s mouth with his hand, repeating his earlier motion.

“This,” he pointed to Youngjae, who was also observing him with clear warning, “is Prince Jinyoung, the future king of Arulat, the grandson of the chief of the Yama tribe, taught swordsmanship by her majesty, the Queen, herself.”

Jinyoung had told him not to use his powers, but he made an undercurrent of magic run beneath his words, made them sound unquestionable, challenging, harsh. These people had to fall for his suggestion, “And he demands satisfaction for this _insult_ by cutting your head off in a fair fight.”

Both Youngjae and Jinyoung stared at him with disbelief. If the Yama tribe knew Jinyoung was wanted they were done for, but Jaebum doubted they could receive the information if they killed all the Arulat guards that appeared on their land.

The girl’s lips stretched in a wolfish grin, “the grandson of the chief? Interesting,” she instructed her people to stop and looked at Youngjae, “what do you say, your majesty? Want to ‘cut off my head’ as your servant recommended?”

“Someone has to teach you a lesson,” Youngjae answered haughtily.

Before he got out of the cage, he caught Jaebum by the nape of his neck and squeezed.

“Risky strategy. Not a bad plan,” he whispered, “but if I get killed because of you, I will make sure my last knife is thrown in your direction to free you from your wretched existence.”

“Don’t get killed,” Jaebum answered.

He would manage. Jaebum had to believe it would work. Youngjae had been able to hold off even Jackson, he was surely able to do it.

If because of him Youngjae died, he would not be able to forgive himself. He would abandon this irresponsible clinging on to his life, do everything so that Jinyoung could escape from here, and then die in the hands of these people, or from the Sangern, or from the venom, he had his pick. But for now, as Youngjae’s curved blade connected with the girl’s sword, there was still hope.


	21. The grandson of the chief

Jinyoung couldn’t believe what Jaebum had done. He had just single-handedly destroyed any plan of escape Jinyoung was trying to come up with, in the most dangerous way he could have attempted. Even if Youngjae did win with the band leader, who was to tell the rest would just let them go? More probably, they would just kill them in retaliation.

He observed anxiously as Youngjae fought. It was true that he was an exceptional warrior, but the Yama tribe didn’t leave their children alone in the mountains at the age of eight for nothing. Jinyoung knew this style of fighting well, could confront his own shortcomings with that girl’s technique, see how good she was when she cut Youngjae’s arm.

Youngjae wasn’t an easy opponent. He was faster than anyone Jinyoung knew, quicker that his mother, than Jackson. He was barely faster than this girl, other people would hardly be able to hurt him. He also drew her blood, cutting over her brow, the blood impairing her vision. She didn’t seem fazed by that, attacking with more fervor, Youngjae baring his teeth and swiveling his sword.

Two times now, the girl had cut his arm, once only skimming and cutting cloth, but Jinyoung realized that it was far more dangerous than if she had really hurt him. That place, if they noticed the paint, they would realize –

“Stop!” the girl shouted, quickly backing away from Youngjae, and they were immediately separated by a wall of her people, “take off your shirt, _Prince Jinyoung_.”

His fears had all come true. Really, how unlucky did they have to be to have met guards, and the Yama tribe, and for Youngjae to be cut there? He knew what he did to have earned all this bad karma, but really, couldn’t he have just died peacefully?

Youngjae had his sword raised when they approached him, backing away into more blades. It was no use, there were too many of them, and those were not Arulat guards for him to have a chance against, with such bad odds. 

“Do what they say,” Jinyoung told him. There was no choice, from the beginning they should have been more cautious.

Youngjae glanced at him and sighed, putting down his weapon and taking of the bloodied shirt, uncovering the tattoos on both of his arms. The blood had covered half of the faded grey-blue ribbon, but the other arm that had ‘property of the Yama tribe’ written on it was untouched.

“A slave,” the girl hissed, “and you had the audacity to pretend to be a prince, lowly creature?”

Youngjae bit down on his answer glaring at her.

Jinyoung was slightly mad at Jaebum for putting them in this situation, but he was angrier at himself. They should have separated in the tunnels. Youngjae should never have come with them on this venture, it wasn’t his problem. It was not Jinyoung he had a debt towards, if it had been anyone it was Jinyoung’s father. Jinyoung had done nothing apart from using all the help Youngjae offered, under the illusion that Jinyoung was somehow responsible for his life.

***

Jinyoung was in the mountains to see his grandfather only once in his life when he was eight years old. He remembered it as a very strange experience, the chief of the Yama tribe reminding him too much of his mother. The Queen didn’t even go with them, her rapport with Jinyoung’s grandfather not exactly terrific after he sold her off to the Arulat king.

He didn’t remember what his grandfather looked like. He remembered that he was scared of him, especially when he wanted to force his father to send Jinyoung into the mountains alone, as was the Yama tribe’s custom. His father didn’t agree and their discussions thundered in Jinyoung’s ears so he escaped.

The tribesmen terrified him, they looked like what Jinyoung imagined wolves, or bears appeared. But there were also other people in the village, many of them more resembling Arulat folk, their skin lighter, their clothes poorer, usually lacking the kohl that the mountain people wore around their eyes. He remembered wondering what those people were doing here, if they were relatives of the tribesman same as him, but not after he saw them preparing food and then not be allowed to eat it, waiting for the people in the hall, standing mutely by the tables, only to then eat outside the building as if they were dogs.

He was afraid to speak up and ask his grandfather about it, so he approached a woman munching outside, crouching on the ground, giving parts of her food to a little boy. She was wearing an ugly brown dress that looked more like a sack, her arms uncovered, both of them tattooed, one with a ribbon, another with an inscription Jinyoung couldn’t see well. She chewed quicker when he approached.

“What did you need, young master?”

“Why are you eating here? Don’t servants normally eat in the kitchen?”

“Servants?” the little boy said, his peculiar, dark eyes turned towards him. He was maybe five years old.

“That’s how they call slaves down the mountain,” the woman told the child with a patient smile.

“No, we don’t,” he answered offendedly, “servants get wages and are not the property of their master. It is forbidden to possess other human beings,” Jinyoung repeated in the grave tone of his tutor.

The woman looked at him with disbelief but she only nodded and went on to carry out some other work, the little boy turning around to look at him before they disappeared in a stable. Jinyoung noticed he had the same tattoos on his small arms.

He decided his father had to hear about this. At eight, he still thought his father to be the most powerful person around, a true king, that all people had to bow their heads to. It was much later he realized that a ‘king’ was just a meaningless word.

But gold, that was not a word without meaning. That was what his father used, trying to appease his son’s naïve rightfulness; he bought out all the slaves that were of Arulat’s origin. Jinyoung imagined his father had used his authority to end slavery right at that moment, but really, all he did was pay a higher price than other mountain tribes would have. He just supported the system, instead of destroying it. But at that moment, Jinyoung didn’t recognize it, nor did he understand that after his father let all those people free in Arulat, they would not know what to do with themselves, most of them not having anyone there to help. Unable to find jobs, with only a small financial help, that probably wasn’t able to provide them nothing except a couple of meals, they would be worse off than they were as Yama tribe’s slaves. Jinyoung was not the smartest of children, he acknowledged that.

However, because he recognized the woman and the child when they were travelling down the mountains, and because she knew about tending horses, she landed herself a job at the royal stables. Jinyoung saw her cry when they showed her a room that all the staff received, even though it was just a very simple wooden building next to the stables. Kitchen staff, servants inside the palace - their rooms were much better, and still, they were nothing compared to the rooms nobles lived in.

Her son, Youngjae, as he had learned later, roamed the grounds around the stables when she was working. Oftentimes, he arrived even to the training ground and he seemed fascinated by seeing rounds and weapons. Jinyoung usually shooed him away, afraid the smaller boy would be injured in some way.

His father, at noticing the child, and knowing that Jinyoung was bad at talking with other children, decided to make the boy his playmate, despite the fact Jinyoung didn’t play, he only learned and practiced and read. He didn’t quite know what playing even entailed.

Youngjae wasn’t much more helpful with that. He was mostly silent, only ever asking questions and, unable to answer some of them, Jinyoung just started taking him to the library, the old librarian delighted to have someone to talk to. Jinyoung loved books from a very young age, the adventure, the magic, the romance, everything in them was so stunning. He undertook the slow and difficult task of teaching Youngjae to read, the librarian aiding him in the endeavor. There was one story Youngjae particularly liked, about a knight, who, after swearing his loyalty to the king, went to the afterlife and back to save him. That was the book they taught him to read on, and Youngjae was able to cite it from memory.

Jinyoung had warned him against coming to the training ground but Youngjae was fascinated with weaponry, overjoyed in his quiet way whenever Jinyoung let him play with the sword that the boy was barely able to hold. When his mother wasn’t looking, he let Youngjae shoot arrows from his bow, and weeks later he saw that Youngjae was not missing any mark, ever. Asked about this Youngjae explained, with his strange deadpan gaze, that he sneaked in by night and practiced.

To get better, Jinyoung had often practiced alone away from his mother’s insults. It was easier to focus without her and Youngjae was always watching him, so he just decided to use him as a practice assistant, showing him forms and moves, at first using only sticks. Youngjae was smaller than him, Jinyoung was afraid of accidental wounds. But he was growing, and at some point, he nicked a sword from the armory. Jinyoung didn’t want to know how he managed that, but from that time they began practicing with real blades.

The Queen, upon finding out that her son was ‘playing’ with a child of a former slave, had yet another quarrel with his father, at which Jinyoung was unfortunately present. He had to listen to his mother calling Youngjae a ‘worthless mongrel’, a ‘child of some meaningless whore’ and other lovely names, too scared of her to speak up. She wouldn’t strike him in front of his father but he was afraid of what would happen at the training ground. Worse was when she started calling Youngjae names to his face, but the boy just stared at her blankly as if he didn’t hear her, which infuriated her even more. Jinyoung was a coward, so the only thing he could ever do was to bring her attention back to himself. 

Jinyoung was eleven when an eight-year-old Youngjae disappeared completely. He couldn’t find him anywhere, not in the stables, not in the palace, or the grounds surrounding the palace. Both, he and Youngjae’s mother, were worried to death. The boy reappeared suddenly four months later, with a broken leg and a set of throwing knives. From that time, Youngjae just vanished for uncertain periods, coming back having obtained something, stolen something, learned something, or having been hurt in some way. The curved, one-edged sword Youngjae preferred was apparently won in a bar fight against pirates in the harbor. Whenever Jinyoung asked him where he was or what he has been doing, he received one-sentence answers like ‘I was in the forest learning to hunt,’ or ‘I walked through all of Arulat.’ Youngjae’s mother was the first to stop worrying and just accepted that her child was uncontrollable, Jinyoung ceased fretting over his escapades much later. When his mother left the job at the royal stables to retire to the countryside with her newfound lover, Youngjae didn’t go with them but continued his life of hanging about wherever Jinyoung was or vagabonding somewhere. His father had asked Jinyoung once if Youngjae was dead because he had not seen a glance of him for over a year, but that was just because Youngjae took to going to Jinyoung’s room directly through his window, and he was generally very light on his feet and able to blend in the shadows.

Youngjae never acted like a child, even though he was younger than Jinyoung, and he had known him since he was five. But he never saw him cry, even when he was hurt. He, fortunately, had a sense of humor, but it was hard to say what he really felt at any given moment, his stares mostly blank and unreadable. Jinyoung was very worried about him when the old librarian died and he found Youngjae on his window, clutching the book about the knight and the king in his hands.

“What is the point, Jinyoung?” Youngjae had said, his voice void of emotions, “what is the point of living?”

Jinyoung was terrified, especially looking as Youngjae was close to a very high window.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why am I alive?” Youngjae turned to look at him, his expression blank as if he was a doll asking its maker for a purpose.

Jinyoung didn’t know, it stressed him out. He didn’t see any point in living, he was just alive, it was just a fact. He couldn’t answer Youngjae’s question, he was fifteen for god’s sake, what did he even know about life? But he was afraid that something bad would happen if he gave no answer at all.

“Because I need you,” he said nervously, “I need you, Youngjae.”

Youngjae blinked, the corners of his lips raising in an unexpected smile. He left the window frame, to Jinyoung’s great relief, and threw the book to him.

“Why not?” Youngjae said, his tone now colored with hilarity, “being a character in a book sounds more fun. Let’s try that.”

If Youngjae imagined him to be the main character he wasn’t in for many adventures, Jinyoung had thought, but he was calmed by the change in his tone. From that time on, Youngjae did whatever Jinyoung asked him to do, and Jinyoung had gotten used to reaching to him first whenever he needed something.

After the King’s death, Youngjae was his only, odd support, but most people thought the prince spend all the time alone. Youngjae scarcely showed himself to anyone, and never to the Queen, the next time she met him was when he slit her throat. Jinyoung wasn’t sure if Jackson had ever known about Youngjae’s existence until now.

It was complicated to say what Youngjae was to him. He was not his servant, not his knight, Jinyoung never thought of him that way. But for a friend, his life was too tied to Jinyoung, he was too much under his influence. Still, he always came and went as he wanted, like a half-tamed animal, and while he listened to Jinyoung’s requests, he was free to leave at any moment. Their history, the fact they knew each other so well since childhood, made them something like a family. The codependency they shared was strange but Jinyoung never wanted to get rid of Youngjae, it would have been incredibly hard to part from him. He was too used to Youngjae always helping him, but he feared that would be the man’s undoing.

***

“Stop, don’t touch him!” he shouted to the men, who were crowding around Youngjae, their blades preparing to strike, “I am the one! I’m Prince Jinyoung!”

“And you think we will fall for that a second time?” the wolfish girl answered.

“Look at my sword! It’s a present from my grandfather, it has the Yama tribe’s markings!”

“You could have stolen that,” the girl said, “but fine, let’s see what your ‘grandfather’ has to say about it,” she nodded at her people, “put the slave back in with them.”

Youngjae was thrown inside and both, he and Jaebum crawled as close as possible to his side.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum said in a flustered voice, ripping his shirt to dab at Youngjae’s bloodied arm, “I’m so sorry, Youngjae, I didn’t predict –“

“Well, we all know you’re not very bright, h-“ Youngjae stopped himself, mindful of their company, “anyway, I don’t blame you. It could have worked, if I didn’t let my guard down and let that runt cut me.”

“I should have interrupted it sooner,” Jinyoung said, “I should have fought with her myself.”

“For what? To have pretty boy here all in tears?” Youngjae joked. At least, his humor was undamaged. “Anyway, I’m hoping the fact you revealed yourself wasn’t just for my sake and you do actually have a plan. Jinyoung?”

“I’m working on it.”

He had absolutely no plan. He had no idea how his grandfather would react to him, whether it was good or bad luck he was not higher up in the main seat.

When they did get to the village, Jinyoung was not taken right away, but after some time, the people took him roughly out of the cart, taking Youngjae and Jaebum in another direction, while he was taken to the biggest wooden house. This was probably the village furthest to the east, how wretched to have run into the Yama tribe with such small chances. But that was already in the past, now he had to look forward and prepare to see his grandfather.

When he went in, there were several people seated at a richly covered table, mostly older folk. The chief was instantly recognizable, sitting at the head of the table, a showy necklace with some animal teeth and many colorful beads interwoven into the braids of his hair and beard, the style of his clothes overdone and too colorful. The man was holding Jinyoung’s sword in his hand.

“They say you are my grandson, thief,” the man spoke, apparently very amused by that story, “come forward, let me see you.”

Jinyoung marched up the carpeted steps and stood right before the chief, who turned his perilous, painted eyes at him and pointed Jinyoung’s own sword at him.

_Show no fear_ – he remembered the harsh words of his mother and he straightened up, looking straight into his grandfather’s eyes - _if you die, you die fearlessly._

His grandfather chuckled.

“You look similar to your father, Jinyoung,” he spoke, turning the sword around and motioning for Jinyoung to take the hilt, “but the way you stare me down reminds me of my daughter.”

Jinyoung swallowed down the disgust of being compared to his mother.

“Our parents live within us,” he spoke, keeping his voice steady, “as do our grandparents.”

“Well said,” responded an older woman that sat next to the chief. Judging from her place and similar attire, she had to be his wife.

“Grandmother,” Jinyoung bowed slightly in her direction.

She smiled at him, in a wolfish but considerate manner. “What brings you into the mountains? Why were you fighting Arulat guards? There are many questions we have and I hope you can feed our curiosity.”

He couldn’t trust these people, but he hoped they were still as unsympathetic for Arulat as before.

“My family has been betrayed,” Jinyoung said with as much resentment as he could muster, which was actually quite a lot, “the snakes of the council have blamed my father’s and mother’s death on the Dal Salam, but I have found out it is them who are responsible. They tried to kill me, with the aid of the false king, but I managed to escape.”

“He had two servants with him, chief,” the wolf girl said, “one of them has our slave marks. He made him pretend to be the prince, asking for an honorable fight with me. He’s a fraud, it would be better if you cut off his tongue.”

“Irna!” a woman besides his grandmother bellowed, “watch who you’re speaking to.”

“Is that true, Jinyoung?” his grandfather asked.

Jinyoung had to weight his words. For these people, he couldn’t appear weak. The only way to not seem so was to play sly and cruel. He shrugged indifferently.

“Why would I risk dying when I have a servant who would do that for me?”

His grandfather exploded with laughter.

“You really do have something of your mother in you,” he praised.

“But, chief!” the girl spoke up again, “why has he not come straight to you if he was escaping? Why go to the pass?”

“I was not sure I would be welcomed here,” he spoke, not even looking in the girl’s direction, “I wanted to go through your territory because I didn’t think king Jackson would dare to send people here. I thought you would be higher in the mountains.”

“We are here for hunting,” the chief answered, “and what a catch we’ve found! An opportune meeting indeed.”

“Forgive me for not considering to reach out for your help,” Jinyoung said, bowing in apology, “the last time we saw each other I was just a child. I could not be certain of your reaction.”

“You seem to have grown into an intelligent man, Jinyoung. Of course, I could not just turn anyone with my blood away. Come, sit down and drink with us.”

There was no way he could trust this man, and he definitely couldn’t let him find out the real reason Jinyoung was escaping. The Yama tribe hated the council, but they also hated the Dal Salam. They were generally very unfriendly to others, so Jinyoung had to be one of them here. This was a den of liars but that was nothing new to him.

When he sat down and started eating and drinking, the wolf girl watching him intently from beside her mother, he was asked all sorts of questions and he had to balance out the lies and the truth.

“You have very loyal servants, to have escaped with you,” the village’s leader, wolf-girl’s mom commented.

“One owes me his life,” he told her, “and the other is my lover.”

The woman nodded with understanding. Perhaps, if he laid claim on Jaebum right away, he could protect him from the things those people would have him do. He remembered the girl’s remarks clearly. 

When he ate and drank and talked and lied, he was given a small house to sleep in, leather and woolen clothes of the Yama tribe’s style, and his things were returned to him. He could not believe this actually worked, but there was another problem. Jaebum had not taken the Sangern yet, and Jinyoung wanted to run to get it to him, but instead, he unhurriedly approached the guard outside the building the slaves slept in.

“I want to have one of the slaves for the night,” he spoke with false authority.

The guard predictably extended his hand with anticipation and Jinyoung blessed Youngjae for always being prepared and packing some gold coins.

“Take your pick, your majesty,” the guard said sarcastically, taking the money and motioning Jinyoung inside.

It was quite dark, but finding Youngjae and Jaebum wasn’t that hard, thanks to their different clothing. Jinyoung stepped carefully between the sleeping forms of slaves and reached them with no words, looking down at Jaebum in hope it would signal to him not to speak up. He grabbed his chin for good measure, commanding him to ‘come with him’ and Jaebum seemed to understand, following after him without a word, Youngjae rolling his eyes and settling down to sleep again.

Only when they were behind the closed doors of the small house, Jinyoung turned around and drew Jaebum closer to him, hugging him tightly. Jaebum squeezed his waist in return.

“Your medicine,” he reminded himself quickly, taking the vial and posing it at Jaebum’s mouth, making him drink it.

“Jinyoung, I have to tell you something,” Jaebum said, looking at him with a serious expression, “I and Youngjae had talked to the other slaves and –“

They heard steps outside his door and Jinyoung posed his finger on his mouth to silence him. When the steps passed, he motioned to the bed.

“You have to speak quietly. Talking isn’t exactly what they expect I would do with you, and it might make them suspicious.”

He pulled Jaebum to lay down before him on the bed, close so they would be able to whisper, and put out the candles. This time, Jinyoung told himself, he didn’t do it just as an excuse to feel Jaebum near.

“There is a prophecy about the Moonstone that I think I might have figured out. Perhaps, I know where it is,” Jaebum told him.

“Now you’re telling me there was a prophecy all this time?”

“There is much discussion about whether the prophecy is about current times or not. Anyway, the desert and the ruins weren’t matching up with it, so I thought it wasn’t important.”

“But?”

“In the prophecy, there is something about looking towards salt waters. We had always thought it meant the ocean, my mother died looking for it there,” Jaebum said, and although Jinyoung could not hear any change in his voice, he knew it must have been a painful memory, “but when the slaves were informing us about the worst chores you could get here, they told us about going down to the desert for salt.”

“What?”

“Lakes, Jinyoung! Somehow, there are saline lakes on the desert, hidden in the dunes.”

“So you think the ruins will be close to one of those lakes?”

“Yes, and there is more. If that is true, then the other part should also be. I don’t remember all the words exactly, but there was something about seven watching over her when the darkness comes.”

“You mean –“

“Stars! What else watches over the dark sky except for the Moon?” Jaebum exclaimed excitedly.

“So seven could mean the crown constellation, there are seven stars in it. And darkness coming, the position of the stars –“

“After sunset?”

“Could be. But we can’t be sure,” Jinyoung bit down on his lip with consternation.

“Even if it isn’t true, we still have to go to the desert. Why try escaping from here, if we can just go along with them? So you must do everything to get us on the salt extracting team, somehow.”

Jinyoung nodded. Escaping the village would mean being followed and probably killed. It really was a better plan to just go along for the moment, if the direction was the same.

He slept deeply the whole night, the fresh mountain air a nice change, waking up to Jaebum’s hair tickling his cheek, his face so close Jinyoung had the occasion to admire the two charming moles Jaebum had over his left eye. He kept staring when Jaebum opened his eyes, interrupted by Jaebum jumping up, undoubtedly surprised by the scarce distance between them. Afterward, Jinyoung sent him away, the vials with the Sangern hidden in his clothes. He didn’t want to let Jaebum go but someone had to tell Youngjae the plan, besides the simple fact that he couldn’t just keep Jaebum by his side in here.

He went straight to his grandfather, declaring that he wanted to prove his strength and dependability.


	22. The ineradicable chains

“If you want to ask, just ask, don’t stare at me,” Youngjae snapped at Jaebum when they were washing themselves with wet rags outside of the sleeping cabin and the half-blood kept unsubtly observing his arms.

Jaebum hesitated a moment before speaking up with a sympathetic tone: “so you were a slave here?”

“Not really,” Youngjae answered honestly, “I was born a slave, but I don’t remember it. Jinyoung freed me when I was about five. The only things I know come from my mom.”

“Jinyoung freed you? But he must have been a child himself.”

“He asked his father to buy the slaves out. I don’t care how he did it, thanks to him my mom got a job at the palace and I evaded the bleak destiny of these people,” he answered looking at the slaves around them, dressed in rags, their faces marred with hard work and despondency.

It was fortunate, in a way, that he had those cursed tattoos. The slaves trusted their own, they accepted him and proved useful in obtaining information that they might have otherwise never learned. Youngjae had feared that when they got to the desert, they would just roam aimlessly until they died of thirst. Now, they had some sort of a clue where to go, so it did pay off to have been caught by the Yama tribe. The only problem was that it decelerated their journey more, and Jaebum’s condition didn’t allow for any delay.

“I wasn’t sure if you’re some sort of bodyguard, or an assassin,” Jaebum told him, trying and failing to change his bandages, so Youngjae shoved his hands away and grudgingly did it himself, checking the state of the half-blood’s injury in the process. Without Jinyoung here, he would have to play the nurse, how fantastic. At least the wound was healing well, no infections or real damages, not that it would make much difference in the end.

“I’m both.”

“No, you’re-“ Jaebum wavered, “I’m not sure what exactly, but now I’m convinced that you love Jinyoung very much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t steal him away. Jinyoung is for me similar to what your brother is to you.”

Jaebum looked at him with panicked embarrassment and Youngjae laughed. The half-blood was an exasperating burden but at least he provided some sort of entertainment.

“I didn’t mean that,” Jaebum told him peevishly, “it just makes me calmer to know that whatever comes, Jinyoung is safe with you by his side.”

Youngjae squeezed the bandage tight, making Jaebum draw a sharp breath.

“Not one of us is safe,” Youngjae told him, “Jinyoung remained unnoticed until you appeared.”

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum said, his expression painful.

“Your apology grants me nothing,” he answered, stepping away from Jaebum when he was satisfied with the bandage, “the only thing you can do now is be careful and not expose us.”

“I know.”

“Do what I and Jinyoung tell you, and don’t be rash. You have a tendency to bite more than you can chew, h-“ he stopped himself again with a sigh, “I can’t wait till we get away and I can finally call you normally.”

“You can just call me by my name.”

“Not in this century, pretty boy.”

“I’m not sure if ‘pretty boy’ is better or worse.”

Youngjae snorted but straightened out his expression. He couldn’t allow himself to start liking the half-blood, he had one leg in the grave already. It was enough that Jinyoung was stupidly infatuated, Youngjae would have to be the one that would help him deal with the aftermath of Jaebum’s death, so he had to be rational.

But he did see why Jinyoung adored this spy. Well, anyone would be in awe of his beauty, a thing that was more hazardous than helpful when the Yama tribe’s men and women stared at Jaebum with hungry eyes. After spending some time with him, Youngjae could say that he possessed a dualistic sort of charm. Jaebum was far from innocent, but there was a certain purity to him that clashed with the way he seemed. And his voice, that was the thing that was worryingly attractive. He couldn’t say with certainty that Jaebum didn’t just use his powers all the time, because listening to him was like hearing music. He understood, in a way, why the Mage sent him on this hopeless mission, and how Jaebum had succeeded in a way none of them had before. Whether Jaebum was aware of it or not, he was always influencing those around him and was more dangerous than any of them had given him credit.

He didn’t agree with Jinyoung not to use this power. It was risky, but it could be an asset they lacked. So he didn’t inform Jinyoung in any way when he found out who was choosing the slaves for the salt extraction and told Jaebum to use his pretty eyes and look at the guy, to which the half-blood reacted with confusion as if he hadn’t spent the last few months seducing the king, _as if_ he didn’t expose his neck and close his eyes, sighing with gratification when he washed his naked chest with the cold rag, causing people to stare at them. Anyway, Youngjae made sure the guy would have no chance to touch Jaebum, except for some subtle grabs while Jaebum passed him dinner, but nothing Jinyoung would be outraged about, and the guy could still be teased with the appetizer that would push him to take Jaebum out of Youngjae’s and Jinyoung’s watchful gazes. And Jaebum was filling his role well, he appeared a clumsy sweetie when he poured milk all over the guy’s lap, but far less innocent when he kneeled to wipe it off, apologizing to his ‘master’ profusely with a low, honeyed voice. Meanwhile, Youngjae’s own way of getting on the expedition was pissing off the girl that he had had a duel with, which earned him a few lashings that upset Jaebum, and Jinyoung was kept in the dark about, but it paid off with him getting the place, despite the chooser’s protests. The last expedition had ended up in most of the slaves and tribesmen dying in a sand storm, so he counted on her malicious but economical nature to send him there. They all ended up on the expedition coming from seemingly unrelated directions. He didn’t predict that wolf-girl, as Jinyoung called her, would be coming along, but she seemed very suspicious of the prince. It could very well be the chief’s order to watch out for him, but the important thing was that they managed to move out quickly.

It started raining when they were walking down the mountain, the mud covering the slaves up to their mid-thighs. The tribesmen, and Jinyoung along with them, rode on tough, stocky mountain horses, that managed to walk well even with the added disadvantage and herded some goats that were there as a milk source and later on as meat. The way down was slippery and difficult, slow because of the soft mud, and accompanied by mosquito bites. Whenever one of the slaves stumbled, dropped something, walked too slowly, or looked particularly irritated, they got lashed with horsewhips as punishment. Youngjae couldn’t even count how many times he almost ruined their chances of escape when wolf-girl hit him. He wanted to drag the whip out of her hand and beat her to death with it. The only thing he could realistically do, was glance at Jinyoung with a silent appeal to overlook it, though he could see his fists tighten on the reins with fury. 

Jaebum was once nonsensical enough to react to it, by placing himself between Youngjae and the girl. Enraged by this show of defiance, she struck him across the face, Jaebum falling back into him with the force of it. He could see Jinyoung reaching for his sword, while Youngjae watched the half-blood’s cheek bleed.

“Irna! What are you doing?” the leader of the expedition bellowed, getting off his horse and forcing Jaebum’s chin up to see the wound. Jinyoung looked on the verge of just killing everyone but he remained on his horse, observing the situation sullenly.

“He got in my way!” she threw back, her teeth bared, “don’t be ridiculous, Samrak, it’s just a scratch.”

The man looked at her with annoyance. He didn’t even let them tattoo Jaebum yet, of course, he would be pissed for destroying his pretty face. Jaebum’s special treatment was sure to last only until the man got tired of him, but for now, he didn’t even get to take him yet, so Jaebum got plenty of special treatment that no other slave here did. Other slaves used to look at him with envious contempt, but hating Jaebum was hard when he passed them his food behind the masters’ back, and spoke up with a soft pleading voice when someone was being punished, in hopes of easing the atmosphere. Youngjae told him time and again to not overstep and that he needed to eat now to keep his energy. His suitor was clearly playing a benevolent master to encourage Jaebum to use his protection, his possible plans to take him unexpectedly by force ruined by Jinyoung’s presence. Jinyoung’s role in the tribe was still too unsure for him to be able to offer Jaebum the sort of security this man could, but the tribesmen were careful not to treat him with open disrespect, the blood of his grandfather a strong enough shield. As long as Jinyoung didn’t do anything suspicious, he was in the best situation.

Jaebum too wasn’t in the worst scenario one could end up. They wouldn’t stop to clean any other slave’s wound, that’s for sure. In the first place, these people planned to make use of him for pleasure, but his body did suit tough labor. He was stately, young, looked healthy. He wasn’t exactly delicate, although his body was roundish in places and his face was remarkably beautiful. It made sense to take him here, along with other strong, young slaves, even though he only really got the job because of the chooser’s fancy. The Yama tribe knew about his injured stomach, but not about the poison cursing in his veins, and for now, Jaebum was feeling sufficiently well, he was resilient enough to help others when they fell down, and carry heavier objects. Youngjae could see, in the twitch of Jinyoung’s eye, how worried he was anytime he looked at the half-blood.

It took them longer than it should have to go down the mountains and through the pass, the soft, damp earth unstable, but the moment they left, Youngjae wished to go back to its heavy humidity. The change was gradual, but the further they went the drier and hotter it became, the climate already horrendous enough when they reached the open grasslands beneath the mountains, and it wasn’t even the real desert yet. In here, there was some vegetation, besides patches of the tall dried grass, there were cacti and small shrubs, a tree here and there. The rains must have reached the place, there was some fresh green among the more muted grayish plants and white earth, even some small yellow flowers. Jaebum seemed fascinated by the view, which was a wonder in their sorry circumstances. Youngjae wanted to look towards Jinyoung to roll his eyes at the half-blood, but Jinyoung seemed similarly taken in by observing the unknown terrain and so Youngjae just sighed to himself. He would let them both imagine they were just exploring and not on a hopeless mission, detained and enslaved by the tribe. Just for a short while.

The slave-drivers slept in three tents, while the slaves just slept on the ground in the open air. It got much colder in the night, all of them close to each other and wrapped in woolen shawls. At night, this area changed completely, strange, unknown flowers opening on the cactuses and the shrubs, the buzz of insects sometimes audible over the sound of the fire. Snakes and lizards were the primary animals that could be observed, though there were sometimes rabbits, that ended up eaten by the tribe.

Jaebum always slept close to him, although he seemed more comfortable in the cold than any of them. In the light of the fire, Youngjae could observe his sunburnt, red face, the delicate skin peeling at his nose, and the scar on his cheek that would heal with time, but would never fade away completely. Not that Jaebum would live long enough for that. He looked so much like a human that Youngjae almost forgot what he was, but then, Jackson was also a half-blood that looked nothing like the Dal Salam. Youngjae feared that the sun would mar Jaebum to the point the expedition’s leader fancy would fade, but he was still strangely remarkable, his black eyes as ravishing as ever, and he still had his voice, so there was no real threat of that.

That night Jaebum moved even closer to him, to whisper lowly without being overheard by the other slaves sleeping close, or the two tribesmen that kept watch. He talked to Youngjae about his naïve ideas of a mutiny.

“There are more slaves here, than Yama tribesman. If we all attacked, we could all be free. Let me just convince them –“

“No,” Youngjae said, interrupting his tirade, “in the best-case scenario they will just refuse, but more probably they would tell on you.”

They were not here long enough to have the other slaves’ trust, nor sympathy, and even if they were, there was no telling the others wouldn’t sell them out, fearful for the assumptions they might have had a hand in their plans.

“You and Jinyoung are good fighters, we might win and maybe if they believe they will survive –“

“Jaebum,” he cut in impatiently, “it is not their life that they fear losing. What is the one thing that you would do everything for?”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum answered, his eyes shining painfully with understanding.

“Children, wives, husbands, sisters, brothers. Most of them were slaves a long time, or were born as ones, and have a family here, that stayed behind to ensure they would not do anything rash. You yourself know that there are threats worse than death and that love is the strongest shackle. Bambam used it against you too.”

Youngjae’s mother had been, for a long time, unwilling to tell him about her past, but Youngjae needed to know. He had to learn what the names that the Queen called him meant, what was behind the tattoos etched onto his skin, therefore he pressed until she gave in, letting the words spill out of her. It was painful to watch as she had uncovered that part of herself, her eyes changing from empty desperation to righteous anger that made tears fall down her face, Youngjae’s eyes watering in a mirror image.

Because, despite his young age at the time, his mother spared him nothing, he felt her honest excruciating memories become a part of him, an origin that he was glad to know but felt the heaviness off. She had told him, without shame, how she, as an eighteen-year-old girl, had foolishly searched for favoritism from her master, lured in by the promise of better food and lighter work, and how it ended up with her being bullied and beaten by that man’s wife, how she had been violated by his son, of which the result was Youngjae’s birth, after which the man had discarded her.

Among the many things he learned was how her friend had been beaten and left to die after his wife had escaped into the woods. She had not managed to get far away and when she was brought back they did not kill her, but tied her to a pole and made her watch the man die of starvation. After she was freed, she hung herself.

Thanks to that, Youngjae understood there would be no mutiny, no valiant fight for freedom. His mother and he were not freed, they were just luckily bought out. The slaves from the mountain tribes would have to be freed all at once or not at all. And now, Youngjae had to focus on freeing the half-blood and Jinyoung, they had to cut themselves off from the rest of them.

“Sneaking out of here is not the problem,” he told Jaebum. It was manageable, but other difficulties arose, “the problem is that we need things and a lot of water most of all. Horses would come in handy too, with how delayed we are, but that just means we would need even more water.”

The tribesmen were not keeping a watch out for them. Escaping into the desert was a fool’s plan, nobody with an ounce of intellect and self-preservation would do it, especially not without proper provisions. One or two escaped slaves would make no difference to them, but one horse, even one goatskin filled with water, was quite another matter.

Once they reached the desert it was about as inspiring as Youngjae imagined, just sand dune after sand dune, nothing else. He could not understand what made Jinyoung and Jaebum fascinated enough to look around with wonder. Jaebum seemed to get disillusioned with it pretty fast, he did not withstand heat well, either because he was of Moonblood or because he was unused to it. The heat that parched their throats ad made them all slimy with sweat would be hard to take for anybody, even with the large shawls they used to cover their heads and bodies, and the water and goatmilk they received. The Yama tribe was well prepared for the journey, it would be a waste to let their slaves die here of heatstroke, but it didn’t make the trek easy, it just made it bearable.

Jaebum told him that according to the stars they were getting off course, and Youngjae suspected that the lake they were going to was not the one near which the ruins were hidden. It had to be quite close for the Yama tribe to even bother going there for salt and it would be best if they managed to escape before they reached it, but for that, the occasion had to be suitable. It arrived when Jinyoung was on night watch, along with Jaebum’s suitor. Wolf-girl decided to join them, probably because she didn’t trust the prince one bit.

A sword was too dangerous to carry, but Jinyoung had been sneakily giving him back his knives, and Youngjae gave a thin one to Jaebum, who looked at it as if it would bite him.

“The last time you gave me one of those, it didn’t end very well.”

“That’s your fault for not listening to me,” Youngjae answered. It was risky to give Jaebum anything sharp, but he had to have something to protect himself with, “don’t put poison on this one. Lure the lovebird away and strike him when he doesn’t expect it. You can do that much, can’t you? Use your power to make him pliable and stab? This one doesn’t have rock-hard skin, I believe you can do it.”

“I don’t want to-“

“I don’t want to be on a damn desert, half-blood, and yet here we are,” Youngjae snapped impatiently. Jaebum had no right to keep himself guiltless when he was the one that got them into this mess, “I would do it, but the girl is the bigger problem, she will alert the others the moment she feels something’s wrong.”

Jaebum didn’t look very convinced, but Youngjae believed he had it in him. He didn’t hesitate before attacking Jackson, why would he do so with this man? This play of innocence had to end if they were to get out of here.

“I killed people to protect you. _Jinyoung_ killed people, his own people, for you. Your hands are already tainted whether you held the blade or not. When it’s us or them, there is no place for sentiment.”

“You sound like Jackson,” Jaebum answered with a dark expression.

“There is a reason why Jackson survived this long hiding who he was.”

“Maybe I could just make him fall asleep? Maybe he won’t –“

“By all means, try if you’re that certain of your powers and you can do it quickly enough,” Youngjae answered, squeezing the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “if you’re killed, that actually makes my job much easier. We will just slip out without you.” 

When night came and Jaebum had gone to the side, the man following after him into the darkness, Youngjae looked in Jinyoung’s direction to see him nod. He stood up slowly when the girl was throwing more wood into the fire. Because she was watching Jinyoung intently, she didn’t see him approaching, but her instinct must have warned her when she managed to jump out of his reach before he cut her. He threw the knife at her but she managed to dodge and attacked him with a sword, from which he had to protect himself with a shorter dagger. Jinyoung came at her from the side, but she kicked Youngjae back and managed to raise her sword in time to clash with his.

“Not fighting honorably now?” she asked Youngjae and he bared his teeth.

“You didn’t seem to want to duel with me when you found out I was a slave,” he answered throwing himself in her direction.

She let out a yell when she fought back, waking the others up, quickly pouring out from the tents. Youngjae wasn’t about to stop fighting, but their chances were meager, when suddenly, there were horses cutting in the way of the other tribesman, the men trying to catch the panicked beasts. Behind them, loudly lashing the air with the whip, was Jaebum riding on Jinyoung’s horse, holding another one by its reins.

Youngjae pushed the girl backward and caught the sword that Jinyoung threw to him, forcing her back and back, until she walked into the fire, and jumped forward in his direction, which he used to side-step her sword and pierce her with Jinyoung’s blade. He watched the blood flow from her mouth as she stared at him with wide eyes and he sank the blade deeper, distantly satisfied by the view, but Jinyoung calling his name woke him up from this reverie.

He jumped up on the spare horse, barley evading an arrow that the tribesmen shot in his direction, while Jinyoung propelled himself to sit behind Jaebum. In the chaos of escaping horses, no arrow managed to reach them and they rode off into the night. It was dark, almost completely, that was why they chose this time that concurred luckily with Jinyoung’s watch. The only one who could navigate in this darkness was Jaebum, who held the reins of Youngjae’s horse the whole time. The tribe would never find them, they probably wouldn’t even try.

They rode the whole night and only stopped when the sun started rising, allowing them to see again. It gave them the chance to examine what they had. Jinyoung had left what he could close to his horse under the saddle, so they had some water, little food, three shawls, Youngjae’s sword. He wasn’t sure it would last, they didn’t know how far exactly the lake was and there was no way this would be enough for the way back.

The daylight also allowed them to see that Jaebum’s face was smeared with dried blood. Jinyoung tried to reach for his face but Jaebum stepped away.

“I’m fine, it’s not my blood,” he said, and he was smiling, but it was the sort of smile that had panic written across it.

“Jaebum –“ Jinyoung started, trying to touch him again but was rebuffed for a second time.

“The horses need to rest, and so do we,” Jaebum answered taking off the saddle, “from now on, it will be better if we travel by night.”

They started to make a small, flat, tent-like cover from the shawls and the solid saddles, that would only cover half of their bodies, but it was always something. While Jinyoung was binding the shawls, Youngjae took a handful of sand and started to rub away the blood off Jaebum’s face, while the other tried to escape this rough treatment. Jinyoung watched them with an expression at once skeptic and amused.

“Here, you’re all clean. You can let Jinyoung touch you now,” he said, pushing the half-blood into the prince, who threw away everything he held to catch him, of course he did.

The three of them had to sleep closely together to fit into the make-shift tent, and he wasn’t going to do that calmly if those two were awkward with each other. It would be better for them to snuggle, so Youngjae could turn his back to Jinyoung’s and have more place for himself. 


	23. The persistent sandglass

_Throughout generations, the Dal Salam used the power of the stone in various ways (…) Dal’s magic was great, even to the point of reversing time itself to bring back a lost life. When the most beloved partner of Queen Tamia - Katsamonnat Bhuwakul and their son had died tragically, overtaken by grief, she had used a previously unknown ritual. It had only managed to bring the prince, Lanlu, back to life, but it had proven once again how powerful the Moonstone was. (…)_

Jinyoung remembered that part of the book well, it was the one that had made him look for the Moonstone, why he was desperate to find any information on the Dal Salam. The power to bring back life – he thought it impossible. But if it was true, that meant his father could yet be saved, time could still be turned back for him. He was inclined to believe it after he saw that the council members couldn’t be killed. If his hypothesis was right, if they could use the stone to make themselves undead, that meant it could very well be able to resurrect someone.

He had planned to use Jaebum to obtain the necessary information on how exactly to do that. He never would have imagined it would end up with him being on a quest to save the man, but now, this was his most pressing issue. If not for him, he would have waited more, he wouldn’t push them to go through Yama tribe’s territory and take on the desert with such inadequate preparation. He had stolen what he could from the encampment, focusing on securing the shawls and the water, but getting a larger amount of it would have been impossible.

He took little food, some nuts, and dried berries, but they would hardly need it. They ate small amounts, just to give them some strength to walk forward. Food would just make them thirstier and what they had to ration properly was water.

It was a good idea to travel by night, something they wouldn’t be able to do without Jaebum’s eyes because the moon was not showing itself much yet and the only visible thing was the starry firmament, that didn’t provide enough light for Jinyoung to see the ground or anything around him. Jaebum led the horses and them surely through it. Sometimes they rode, sometimes they walked, but their tempo couldn’t be too fast, too much movement would make them thirsty and weak. They walked throughout the night, the morning, and the evening, resting only in the hottest hours. At night, he had to wrap the shawl securely to keep from shivering in the suddenly frigid air, or if he sat behind Jaebum or Youngjae on one of the horses, they could share body heat by sticking to each other. He did it mostly with Youngjae, whose pragmatic nature let him overlook that he wasn’t the biggest fan of such close physical contact, because Jaebum generally felt well in the cold. It was the terrible heat of the day that was exhausting him, Jinyoung noticed that he could hardly fall asleep and he wished in those moments that he had Jaebum’s power of bringing someone good dreams. 

The often silent and uneventful journey forward offered too much time to think. Jinyoung couldn’t calm his mind with books here. Those weren’t nightmares, exactly, that plagued him, but he had many anxieties and deliberations, that often came to him uninvited.

Jaebum was still a mystery to Jinyoung, even after he told them the truth about his brother and revealed his purpose in coming to the castle. He believed Jaebum’s intentions weren’t malicious, he didn’t think that Jaebum wanted to start the war. But he couldn’t look through the half-blood completely, couldn’t say what was on his mind exactly. He could assume his primary objective was to get to the Moonstone to save himself, while it was also important for his people. And the point was, Jinyoung was sure now where Jaebum’s loyalties laid, they had always been on the Dal Salam side. The problem was, he wasn’t certain on whose side he himself was on. He knew he wasn’t on Jackson’s side, definitely not on the council’s side, but he was still the prince of Arulat, and the council wasn’t all that was there of his people. He was never interested in ruling, but it was his father’s kingdom all the same, was he supposed to just abandon it? At the same time, he had no idea what to do, no plan as to how to deal with the council. He had always turned away from that problem, pursued a thing that had no real connection with it. And on the other side, Jaebum’s side, there were the Dal Salam. Jinyoung was not one of them and he did not trust them, even though, in reality, it was the council and his mother that organized his father’s murder. Jaebum and his brother might have wanted peace, but what about the others? The Mage, the Tuans, the other clans, what would they do once they had the Moonstone?

Jinyoung, and Youngjae along with him, had no real place, they were not on any side. They were just two little points that raced in the direction of the conflict Jinyoung had no real desire to partake in. He had been looking for the Moonstone for a long time, but at this moment, it was essential to find it. He couldn’t let Jaebum disappear from this world because there was no one else like him on it.

But there were also other thoughts about Jaebum’s indefinable nature that plagued him, and they were much less about the dilemmas of their kingdoms and much more about Jinyoung’s greedy emotions. When they were in his castle, Jinyoung was jealous of Jackson, and he was hurt every time Jaebum put a barrier between them. Even now, the barrier did not disappear, it moved, but it was still there. Jinyoung had observed how Jaebum reacted to others and it was never the same way he reacted to him. He seemed spooked by Jinyoung’s touch, even though at other times he allowed him to do it freely when he slept, when Jinyoung was checking his injuries, but neither did he flinch when Youngjae did those things. Jaebum didn’t seem naturally scared of people touching him in general, Jinyoung had seen how friendly he had been with the servants back in Arulat. He also wasn’t below using his charm to his advantage, the way he did with Jackson and Samrak. And even though they both ended up getting stabbed for it, although only one with any effect, Jinyoung was still jealous of the attention they received from Jaebum. It was less so in Samrak’s case, while the blood had boiled in him whenever he had seen the tribesman close to Jaebum in the corner of his eye, he was aware the whole time it was just Youngjae’s vexing plan to get them out of there. But, as far as Jinyoung knew, Samrak had never touched Jaebum, although he liked to hint so in Jinyoung’s company to get him to lose his temper. If he had attacked first, they would have an excuse for killing him before his grandfather, so Jinyoung kept his fury in, albeit with great difficulty.

Jackson was another matter altogether. Jinyoung had seen them together, the picture was burned into his mind as one of those memories that would probably never fade. Even though Jaebum had been with him to obtain information, and had tried to kill him, he himself on the verge of dying by his hand, Jinyoung was unsure what sort of sentiment Jaebum had for the king. He spoke very little of him, even though he was an enemy to them all. On the other hand, Jaebum and Jackson were of the same kind, both half-bloods, and, even more importantly, Jackson was apparently the only known descendant of Jaebum’s legendary Queen. There was some sort of connection between them that Jinyoung couldn’t place, but it bothered him all the same. 

Additionally, Jinyoung was aware that Jaebum did not tell him everything, was not inclined to share some things. Jinyoung wanted to assume that his gradually worsening coordination, that his occasional shortness of breath, were just the effects of the tiring journey but he knew the stages of the poisoning well and he knew that this was how it started. He could see Jaebum’s pain when he reached to grab his chest, furrowed his brows and closed his eyes taken by a sudden headache, or leaned forward, the lines of his body curving around his surely painful stomach. There was no denying that his health was deteriorating. Jinyoung as well didn’t talk with him about it, simply because he knew there was nothing he could do. He had known before administering the Sangern, that there would be nothing able to ease its side-effects, nothing short of interrupting the treatment, and that would kill Jaebum in hours. It was a contradictory medicine, it was keeping him alive, only to kill him in the most painful way over a longer period of time.

Those signs of the Sangern working made him fearful. He hoped, with all of himself, that they would manage to reach the Moonstone before it was too late. But, in case they didn’t succeed, he needed to know. He had to be able to bring Jaebum back.

“Do you happen to know the ritual that can bring somebody back to life?” he asked Jaebum without much hope.

Jaebum was from a noble family, he could theoretically know it, even if he was not of the Wang line.

“Jinyoung,” Youngjae hissed. He was still of the opinion that Jaebum couldn’t be entirely trusted, but who else were they supposed to learn that from? Bambam? He didn’t see that happening.

Jaebum stopped upon hearing the question.

“What?” he asked in a stilted voice.

“There was someone that the Moonstone brought back to life. Lanlu? I think that’s what he was called, his mother –“

“How do you know that?” Jaebum said and Jinyoung never before heard him sound like that – rigid, frantic almost.

“From a book my mother had? The only book I could find on the Dal Salam,” Jinyoung watched Jaebum warily, “but isn’t that a good thing? If we’re too late I, or your brother, can –“

“Why was that in a book written in Liao?” Jaebum said as if he was talking to himself, looking back at Jinyoung with a strange expression, “what else?”

“Pardon?”

“What else was written about that in the book?”

Jinyoung told him the fragment he remembered but there was nothing else about it, he knew, he studied the whole book a thousand times in search for answers.

“I had seen that book in your room once,” Jaebum disclosed, “but I thought it was just a bunch of our legends. I never thought it would have something like this. But it makes sense now that you and Youngjae knew about the Moonstone.”

“So what’s the matter, half-blood?” Youngjae asked from his resting place against the lying horse, “why are you suddenly so unnerved by it?”

“This isn’t - well, it’s not untrue, but it’s not the whole story,” Jaebum said, “Lanlu was brought back to life with the power of the Moonstone over two hundred years ago, that much is our true history. But what the book failed to mention was that it was a prohibited act. The Bhuwakul clan washed their hands off it, they tried to stop Queen Tamia from performing it, but the rest of the Wang clan had prevented them from disturbing the ritual.”

“And? It worked, didn’t it?” Youngjae answered while Jinyoung started pondering.

“It did, but … it was the last year for the Wang clan,” Jaebum said with a somber expression, “the whole family was wiped out by a sickness, that didn’t transfer to anybody else.”

“The Moonstone did that?” Jinyoung asked with shock.

“Nobody knows what happened exactly, but the Dal Salam always believed the two things were connected, that the Wang family was punished for breaking sacred laws.”

“If the whole family was wiped out, how can Jackson be one of them? Why haven’t you chosen another ruler?”

“The Bhuwakul and Kim families believed that there was one of Dal’s line that survived – Lanlu himself. And although he had disappeared at that time, he could have gone over to Arulat, he could have gone anywhere. If that was the case, Jackson could be his descendant.”

“But you said,” Jinyoung had to swallow to continue, “you said the Moonstone can heal you. Now you’re saying something about it being banned?”

"'What is dead is gone, but what is alive, has the right to fight for survival, with whatever means necessary’ – that is the law that our magic has. Necromancy is forbidden, but healing is not.”

Jinyoung’s hand trembled when he used the saddle to hold himself from falling down. Then, to the confusion of everyone, he started laughing. It was not a happy laugh, not even a real one truly. He just didn’t know what to do: to cry, to throw himself on the ground?

Jaebum put his hand on his shoulder and said his name in a calming manner, the magic of his words stopping the panicked sound, but not managing to soothe the uproar inside him.

“Five years,” he spoke, looking Jaebum in the eyes with frenzy, “five years me and Youngjae had wasted to look for this damned stone because I wanted to bring my father back to life!” he revealed to Jaebum, who looked at him without surprise, but with immense sadness.

“Jinyoung,” he spoke, his voice broken, “I would like to bring back my parents more than anything, but it’s not possible. Wanting to turn back time leads to nothing but tragedy.”

In a way, Jinyoung knew for a long time that his father was dead, that he would always remain dead. It was not real hope he had been feeding himself, it was the need to do something, to go back to when he still had some family left. His mother’s death had not eased his pain even a little, it had only added to it. He was even more lost after they killed her, the book, and the promise of a magical remedy for his pain the only thing he could come up with. He focused on that because there was nothing else he could direct his thoughts to.

Until Jaebum had come and filled his mind to the brim in a way that nothing ever had. And now, now that he really needed this magic, _now_ he got to know that he wouldn’t be able to use it? How was that fair? 

He pulled Jaebum closer to him, holding onto his neck and back, and burying his face in Jaebum’s black hair.

“We will get to the Moonstone in time,” he promised, squeezing the man’s body, “we will save you before it’s too late.”

Jaebum hugged him back, his body relaxing, “I know,” he said, but Jinyoung could hear the uncertainty hidden underneath the dishonest words.

But Jinyoung wasn’t lying. This was the only thing he wanted and the one he would exert everything he could to accomplish. Jaebum was going to survive, whether he believed it or not.

He felt a different hand squeeze his arm and left the cover of Jaebum’s hair to look straight into Youngjae’s panicked face.

“Sorry to disturb, but sandstorm!”

They all turned to see a gigantic wall of yellow dust advancing towards them.

“We have to escape!” Jaebum said, twisting to go in the opposite direction but Jinyoung didn’t let him go.

He hoped all those adventure books he read were right about this.

“No,” he said, releasing Jaebum, and quickly throwing the shawls to both of them, he himself wrapping his face in the third one, “cover your mouth and nose well, and don’t let sand get into your eyes,” he instructed, grasping the reins of his horse and starting to go towards the storm, Youngjae taking the cue and grabbing the other one, “we’re getting to high ground,” he motioned the top of the sand dune, “Quickly!”

They run but soon they were enveloped in darkness and the deafening rumor of wind all around them. He forced the frightened horse to get down and pulled on Jaebum’s hand to sink to the ground shielded behind its side, blindly holding him close while this chaos raged around them.


	24. The tearing rope

Jaebum went to the side humming a sensual melody, Samrak following close behind him, just as Youngjae wanted. He stopped when they passed the place the horses rested and let the man come to him, hold him from the back, travel the length of his neck up to the side of his face with his lips. He could feel the tribesman’s hardness against him and he knew he had to turn this around, or else the man would push him down, hold him there. He grabbed the hands clutching him to give himself enough space to rotate and face him. But when he leaned forward, he could feel the man’s hands close tighter around his wrists.

“Relax, master,” he said, filling his voice with as much sultry magic as the Liao language let him, he couldn’t risk using Dalhyo here, “let me take care of you.”

He licked the man’s lips and reached down with his freed hand, grasping the man’s hardness, making him emit an urgent sound. Good - pliable, that’s what he was supposed to make him.

Jaebum kneeled and started working on the bindings of the man’s trousers. Thankfully, the slaves had received loose, brown, long-sleeved shirts for the journey in the desert. It was perfect to hide Youngjae’s thin knife in.

He dragged the trousers down, leaving the man vulnerable, though not exactly in the way the other wanted. It was less about his member and more about his artery, that Jaebum cut right away, the blood gushing onto him, getting inside his mouth.

He glanced up to see that it was no longer Samrak’s face looking down on him. It was Jackson’s, his green eyes glowing while he reached his hand down to drag Jaebum by the hair. When Jaebum blinked, it became Jinyoung’s face, dark blood pooling from his mouth and landing on Jaebum’s cheeks.

He woke up with a start, sitting up, causing the shawl-tent to raise with him. This action woke Jinyoung up as well, his bleary eyes looking up at Jaebum.

He had to remind himself where he was. He was in the middle of the desert, covered by shawls that still couldn’t detain the scorching sun completely, Jinyoung beside him. They had just survived a sandstorm, frightened at first when they realized Youngjae was not with them, but a moment later he arrived, infuriated, bad-mouthing the horse that had run away with half of their water supply. After drinking a bit to clear his parched throat, Youngjae decided to go look for it and told them to stay there, so they made camp and decided to use this time to get some rest.

He had to scratch at his face to make sure it was not covered in dried blood. Jinyoung rose to his level, the shawl resting on his head and shoulders as well, and forced Jaebum’s hand away.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his hold on him gentle but firm.

“Nothing,” Jaebum answered, not managing to conceal the alarm in his voice, “just a bad dream.”

His traitorous body leaned forward, searching for Jinyoung’s comforting touch that he immediately provided, his fingers clearing Jaebum’s forehead of his sticky hair.

“I wish I could make you calm with just my voice,” Jinyoung told him, with a regretful smile.

Jaebum caught the hand that was placing his hair behind his ear, made it stay before it could withdraw.

“It’s alright,” he told the prince, “your presence soothes me enough on its own.”

Jinyoung looked into his eyes with an ounce of astonishment, stared at him in a way that made Jaebum stop breathing. He looked down at Jaebum’s lips and moved forward, deliberately, cautiously, Jaebum’s heart making somersaults in anticipation. His eyes were already half-closed before he managed to remember himself and bar Jinyoung’s lips with the palm of his hand.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum said, looking into Jinyoung’s eyes from their small distance, his hand kept on Jinyoung’s mouth, “you promised you wouldn’t kiss me again.”

Jinyoung looked at him with visible frustration. He grabbed the hand on his mouth and forced it forward, posing his lips on Jaebum’s clothed wrist, but Jaebum could still feel it through the material.

“I’m not kissing you,” Jinyoung answered Jaebum’s accusatory gaze, “I’m kissing your shirt.”

“My shirt is dirty,” Jaebum said, forcing down his smile into a strict line and jerking his hand away.

“So,” Jinyoung answered, moving towards him in a slow, careful manner, “it would be more sanitary if you just let me kiss your lips,” he looked down and Jaebum couldn’t stop himself from swallowing loudly. Jinyoung was very close, and he made his intentions clear.

Jaebum couldn’t even answer him, too occupied with trying to quiet down his thundering heart.

“No? I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,” Jinyoung said looking into his eyes, “so the shirt it is,” Jinyoung informed, leaning down, below Jaebum’s throat, “I don’t actually mind. At least, the shirt has touched your skin.”

He kissed the material just beneath the collar, pressing it against Jaebum’s collarbone. Jaebum didn’t have the force of will to stop him, so the hands that he put on Jinyoung’s arms stayed there uselessly, instead of pushing the prince away.

“You’re going around the rules,” he said, his fingers curling into Jinyoung’s shoulders, “that’s not entirely decent either, your majesty.”

Jinyoung bit lightly on his collarbone in answer, Jaebum gasping with surprise. He didn’t move away when Jinyoung returned to breathe the same air as him, too near to let Jaebum think in peace. He didn’t move in to connect their lips, suspending time itself to torment Jaebum with it. This, it was a test, and Jaebum’s odds got worse when Jinyoung bumped their noses against each other gently. This tenderness was worse than if Jinyoung tried to persuade him forcefully, it made Jaebum’s head spin.

“My thoughts are not entirely decent,” Jinyoung replied, and Jaebum could hear the smile in his voice.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum said, his tone pitiful.

“I know,” Jinyoung answered, his hands reaching to frame Jaebum’s face and pulling him forward, closing his eyes and connecting their foreheads, “I’m sorry. I’m aware this is not the right time,” he paused with a swallow, “it’s so hard to rein myself in when you’re so close. But I’ll manage.”

There would never be a right time for this. Jaebum stood up with a suddenness that threw Jinyoung, and the tent, off-balance.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at the prince’s surely disheartened expression, “I need to take a walk. Don’t follow me.”

He exited the mess of shawls with haste, his heart still turbulent. He walked and walked but peace would not be granted to him that day, it seemed.

“Why didn’t you just let him kiss you?” he heard Youngjae’s voice behind him, “it’s really a small price for dragging him out here.”

“Can you not pry for ten seconds?” Jaebum answered with aggravation, “weren’t you supposed to look for the horse?”

“Didn’t find it. I don’t trust you enough to leave the two of you alone for too long.”

“Even so, you don’t have to talk to me about it.”

“I’m curious,” Youngjae answered, sitting before him on the sand, “Why? It’s just a kiss.”

“Is a kiss suddenly the price for Jinyoung’s –“ he stopped himself. He didn’t want to say ‘love’, or ‘devotion’, or any of the words that would describe the way Jinyoung treated him. It was not real love that Jinyoung felt.

“You’re not exactly the type to shy away from using your allures to your benefit. The fact that you don’t let Jinyoung touch you, actually tells me more about your feelings than if you kissed him just for the sake of controlling him.”

Jaebum closed his eyes. Even Youngjae seemed to have far too good an opinion of him.

“It’s not real,” he spoke up, the weight on his chest too heavy not to ever share it, “Jinyoung’s feelings are the effect of my spell. He’s just bewitched.”

He opened his eyes to see Youngjae smiling at him ironically.

“Really? You have powers that will make a person risk everything for you? Why didn’t you say so sooner, that would have saved us a lot of trouble in the mountains,” Youngjae teased, “what a wonderful magician you are, half-blood. But let me ask, what spell was placed on you?”

“I don’t know what you –“

“You don’t? You were always a bad liar, half-blood. Stop trying.”

Jaebum’s lips quivered.

“I feel the poison killing me slowly, every day,” he answered, Youngjae’s smile fading, “with so little hope, how can I give it to Jinyoung? How cruel would it be to let him know I-“ he stopped, tears going into his eyes, “I abused Jinyoung’s feelings already by making him save me and take me here. I dread to think they can be real, and will not wither once I die.”

“We’re trying to save you.”

“And I’m thankful, Youngjae, to both of you. But you know our chances better than Jinyoung, your judgment is not clouded. Right now, I can’t be anything but a burden,” his voice cracked, “and I still don’t want to die. I still don’t want to be left alone. I don’t deserve the help you offered me.”

“Fear of death is natural, half-blood,” Youngjae answered, his voice a tone softer, “don’t beat yourself up over that.”

Each day was worse than the last. At first, it was just pain, in his head, stomach, heart, his whole body. It burned him and it made him irritable: at the surrounding dunes, at Youngjae’s comments, at Jinyoung for being too perfect. It was the same, all the time, walk, pain, walk, rest for a bit, pain, the desert just endlessly unchanging, the stars no closer than before. When the pain subsided, it did so only to return even acuter a moment later. He noticed that his vision was getting blurry at times, that there were moments he couldn’t breathe, that his heart seemed to slow down and his legs refused to carry him any further. There was an incessant ringing in his ears, that he uselessly tried to block by covering his ears. The pain made it difficult to sleep but when he managed, he couldn’t wake up, Jinyoung shaking him or lifting him up, to make him start another evening of aimless walking. He was angry at him for it at times, swatting his hands away. He hit Youngjae once, when the man impatiently pulled on his arm, not that he felt it, it hurt Jaebum’s hand more. He dozed off when he rode on the horse, hoping that one of them would catch him if he fell off. He was the only one that rode on it sometimes now, the animal weak because they didn’t have enough water to give it proper rations. He was a dying thing, riding on a dying thing, another sacrifice Jinyoung was willing to make for his worthless, selfish life. Even when he walked, he was drowsy and weak, Jinyoung using the hand on his back to keep him on course.

The cold nights didn’t get to him as much as the others before, but he couldn’t stop shivering at some point. Jinyoung, despite his protests, wrapped him in his own shawl, he himself exposing himself to the dangerous change in the climate. Jaebum could see that Jinyoung and Youngjae were exhausted too, that their strength was on its verge as well, but when the metal chain tightened around his insides, it was the only thing he could think about.

The possibility of his death had been postponed in his mind. It had always been there, but he never considered it with such immediateness. He shoved it away, infected by Jinyoung’s faith. But the excruciating pain and the weakness he felt made it impossible to ignore. Vanishing from this world, not knowing what happened next, not seeing his brother, it terrified him, so he thought about a more practical matter, with a mental disclaimer that it was just in case he died.

Jinyoung was still not aware of some things. Jaebum kept them from him, not able to predict his reactions. Mostly, he didn’t share information that he himself was uncertain about, and the most pressing one was about Jackson killing Jinyoung’s father. Jaebum felt it was just a fragment of a bigger story that he couldn’t learn, he didn’t know why Jackson did it, didn’t know how. He just knew he did do it, and Jinyoung deserved to learn that before Jaebum would be unable to tell him. Someone had to discover the truth, the whole truth behind everything that was happening, and Jaebum would have no time for that. Jinyoung would have to be the one, he was a much better candidate than him anyway, smart, caring, and inquisitive. Jinyoung could be the one that brought reconciliation to them all.

The sooner it was done the better, so he used that night for the occasion. He told Jinyoung and Youngjae as much as he knew, that Jackson revealed it right before he attacked him, that he didn’t obtain any more information. They both seemed shaken by the news, angry at him for not divulging it sooner. Although Jinyoung’s fury was mostly directed at Jackson, as Jaebum predicted it would. He knew the prince loved his father very much, to the point that he had spent years looking for a way of bringing him back.

Jaebum understood that feeling, the desire for a miracle that would revive his parents. Come to think of it, Jinyoung had never mentioned anything about bringing back his mother as well. Jaebum didn’t quite understand Jinyoung’s relationship with her. He knew some facts about her, that she was from the Yama tribe, that she taught both Jinyoung and Jackson to fight. Jinyoung spoke about her rarely, in passing, Jaebum heard more about the Queen from Jackson himself. And Jackson had been her lover, just as Jaebum had been his. He was dying, the Queen was dead, and in strange circumstances too, supposedly assassinated by the Dal Salam, but the Tuan clan denied any such allegations, and many believed Bambam organized it on his own, but without any evidence. There was a connection there Jaebum started to make. 

“If Jackson assassinated the King,” Jaebum wondered, “maybe he killed the Queen as well.”

Jinyoung looked horrified. He opened his mouth and closed them with a lost expression. Jaebum could imagine what it felt like to learn both of his parents were killed by someone you had right under your nose.

“I can’t say how sorry I –“

“No, Jaebum,” Jinyoung said and closed his eyes, swallowing heavily, “I-“ he started, biting his lip, “I’m the one who killed the Queen. My mother’s death is my fault.”

Jaebum stood in place, shook to the core.

“Technically, I killed her,” Youngjae added, but Jaebum didn’t listen anymore, he didn’t listen when Jinyoung tried to stop him once he started walking away in a random direction, unable to speak.

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to consider this but at the same time, he didn’t want to think about it. Humans really were the way Bambam had always said, even Jinyoung. He had the proof right before him, he had seen Jinyoung kill people, but he discarded it because Jinyoung did it for his protection, because of the horrible words Youngjae fed Jaebum about the laws of survival. Murderers and liars surrounded him, and he was one of them. He became one of them now.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung caught up to him, holding him forcefully by the shoulders, “where are you going? Please just –“

“You!” Jaebum threw the hands off him, “you’re the same as Jackson! He wanted to kill someone, and he did it, and then the guilt was placed on the Dal Salam. My father was murdered because of that,” he threw out, “and you, you killed your own mother of all people, and what did you do? Yes, why not just toss that one to the Dal Salam too? They are our enemy anyway. You never considered that someone else’s mother might be killed as a consequence.”

He could feel the tears that were escaping his eyes, barely even able to see through them.

“I blamed all of this on the council, I didn’t want to believe that humans were evil. But you are all poisoned, you allowed them to poison you, and I,” Jaebum spoke through a sob, “I poisoned myself. I poured the venom on the blade not aware it would be my sentence. I betrayed my parents and I betrayed my own beliefs. I deserve everything that happened to me.”

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, managing to grab the sides of his face despite Jaebum blindly fighting with him, “calm down,” the prince’s voice was the only stable point in existence, the rest was fluid, “you were frightened and cornered.”

He could feel Jinyoung’s fingers moving over his cheeks to wipe away the tears. He held onto his wrists, unable to fight with him longer.

When he calmed down somewhat, Jinyoung had spent a long time telling him the whole story that concerned his mother’s murder. Jaebum couldn’t judge him, he didn’t know how to after he imagined all of the pain, and the loneliness, and the rage, that Jinyoung had gone through. He didn’t think killing was an answer, but neither did he feel Jinyoung’s actions to be incomprehensible.

“I did not tell you this to excuse myself. What I did deserves no forgiveness, but I cannot turn back time and undo it. And you too, you can’t go back and make other decisions.”

“It makes me feel like we are all drowning,” Jaebum said, his voice tired with the heaviness of his earlier outburst, “slipping down more and more.”

“I used to imagine I was drowning in blood.”

“And now?”

“Now I mostly concentrate on saving you,” Jinyoung smiled with a bit of sadness, “that really helped to bring me out of the darkness.”

Jaebum felt with sudden clarity the sensibleness of Jinyoung’s words. Focusing on what could yet be saved, there was still so much of that.

And when his fever broke out, when he started fainting every so often, when he was unable to walk and he could only travel in the saddle, he started realizing he was getting beyond that point. But Jinyoung and Youngjae were not beyond saving yet, even though his sinking hand was dragging them down, Jinyoung’s hold on him strong and determined.

He could try to use his power to make Jinyoung turn back, leave him, and Youngjae would probably follow. But there was nowhere they could turn back to, behind them laid the territory of the Yama tribe, that surely did not forget what they’ve done, further then that was Arulat, where they were wanted and would undoubtedly be killed. On the other side of the desert, far away, was the jungle, too inhospitable for humans or Dal Salam to inhabit, and with how little water they had, it wasn’t possible to reach it.

So Jaebum had to survive long enough to meet his brother that should be looking for the Moonstone as well. He had to be here, hidden in the dunes somewhere. It was the only option he saw for them, Yugyeom would take Jinyoung and Youngjae with him if Jaebum asked him to. Even if he wasn’t here, then Bambam might listen to him and offer them protection, despite the fact that they were humans. He owed Jaebum a debt for finding out where the Moonstone was, and Jaebum would do everything to make him repay it, to promise no harm would befall them.

However his considerations didn’t last long, his mind was getting too muddled for that. At first, he knew something was wrong, he understood that his mother wasn’t really there, riding on her black horse, her grey hair shining in the moonlight. She talked to him, of everyday stuff, of life after death, how drowning had felt. Then his father joined their journey, disputing this or that, the sound of his parents' voices while they were debating or teasing each other long unheard. When he wept with the pain they shushed him, told him dying was easy, that they were waiting for him there.

After that, he had episodes of being aware of where he was, but those were the times when the pain hit the worst. He preferred when it was bearable, when he walked his gardens, walked through the Kim estate, walked alongside his brother, even walked towards a raging volcano with Jackson by his side. Anything but the desert and pain.


	25. The house of Whisperers

In the last phase of the treatment the patient was hardly conscious, Jinyoung knew. He actually preferred when Jaebum was asleep because then they didn’t have to hear him talk to people that were not there. Jinyoung had learned the words for ‘mother’ and ‘father’ in Dalhyo, because Jaebum repeated them so often, his ominously sounding conversations carried out in two languages. He rarely ever said anything to him or Youngjae. The only time he was present enough to answer basic question, or acknowledge Jinyoung’s existence, was right before Jinyoung made him drink the Sangern extract. He fought against that, shoving Jinyoung’s hands away, but he was too weak to stop it, he was barely strong enough to stand most of the time.

The horse carried him, until one night, while Jinyoung and Youngjae put one foot in front of the other with unspeakable difficulty, Jaebum started singing something in Dalhyo, his voice enchanting but sorrowful. He and Youngjae woke up hours later, confused when they found themselves just sleeping there on the sand, while Jaebum ran his hands through the lying horse’s mane, it’s big head resting on the half-blood’s lap. When Jinyoung approached, he saw that the horse was no longer alive. He asked Jaebum with horrified astonishment if he did it somehow, though he didn’t exactly expect a logical reply of the man. Jaebum only said that it ‘needed to sleep,’ with a good-natured smile, as if Jinyoung was a child that needed a simple explanation.

Jinyoung had not given this horse a name. He was sure it had some name in the Yama tribe’s stables, but he had never learned it. He knew from the beginning that taking it here would mean its death, that’s why he didn’t do it.

That created another obstacle for them. They had so little water that carrying it wouldn’t be a problem, but Jaebum was not in a walking condition. They had to carry him, and he was a tall, heavy, mostly unconscious man. It made their pace snail-like, as they transported him in turns on their backs, their legs trembling from the effort. While they barely strode forward, the clouds had obscured the stars that were their guides, and they were not even rain-bearing clouds, they were just there to annoy and exasperate him.

They were lost, Jaebum was delirious, and they had almost no water. At those times they could walk no further, they sat down on the sand in silence, Jinyoung contemplating how he could ever presume they were able to cross this horrible ocean of sand. Every time he sat down, he felt he wouldn’t be able to stand up again, and he imagined them crawling forward on all fours until they dropped dead and the birds ate them. When his overheated brain started working again he realized that birds meant a water source could be somewhere close.

Youngjae had gone off to check if the lake was nearby, or if there were some cacti, anything that would provide them with the sacred gift of water, leaving Jinyoung, who had carried Jaebum for the last hours, to rest and replenish his nonexistent energy.

Jaebum was awake and curled on the ground, clutching his stomach and chest with clawing hands. He seemed aware of his surroundings for the moment, which was probably worse for him. In a minute, Jinyoung would give him the extract, but for now, he had no strength for their daily struggle over it and it was easier when he had Youngjae there to keep Jaebum’s mouth open and then force him to swallow.

Jaebum usually tried to shuffle away from him when he realized it was the time for him to drink the poison, but this time he suddenly sat up and crawled over, his hands on Jinyoung’s legs to keep himself balanced when he leaned into his space. Jinyoung looked into his eyes with surprise and they seemed quite attentive, so he decided to try talking.

“Do you know where we are?”

Jaebum looked to his right and left with the laziness of a big cat.

“Doesn’t look like a palace,” he answered jokingly, “I know. Desert. Youngjae went for water. I’m not entirely crazy.”

Jinyoung wasn’t sure about that but Jaebum’s voice was sound and confident.

“Who am I?” he asked Jaebum, who smiled in answer.

“My handsome savior,” he leaned in with a smile and Jinyoung’s heart jumped in fright. He moved back before Jaebum could connect their lips.

“Are you suddenly afraid of me, Jinyoung?” Jaebum asked with a shimmering laugh, bending to give Jinyoung a quick peck.

Jinyoung was too shocked to answer. He didn’t move when Jaebum did it again, this time staying longer, his hand grabbing Jinyoung’s nape, his lips opening over Jinyoung’s closed ones.

“Relax,” Jaebum told him when he drew back, only to dive in again, licking over his dried lip, making Jinyoung close his eyes. 

Jinyoung wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t expect it now and he didn’t think about it, but it happened and he was left astonished. Was Jaebum kissing him because he was delusional? If that was the case Jinyoung ought to pull him away, it wasn’t fair to exploit the situation. But maybe he was trying to distract himself from the pain in some way? What was Jinyoung supposed to do?

He made microscopical movements against Jaebum’s lips, waiting to see what would happen, his racing pulse making him light-headed. 

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum said when he moved back, his eyes half-lidded but seemingly present.

“Jaebum?” Jinyoung answered, a shiver going through him when Jaebum leaned to his ear.

“ _Listen to my voice,”_ the words were not in a language Jinyoung knew, but he understood them somehow, and he obeyed, “ _take up your sword_.”

His hand moved without his consent, taking the blade out from his belt.

Jaebum opened his mouth again and Jinyoung watched with horror but he couldn’t move.

“ _Free me,”_ Jaebum said, leaning again to his lips, kissing him gently before he continued, “ _free me from this pain_.”

Jinyoung’s hand moved towards him and spasmed with fear. He held it in place, held it with all the strength of his dormant muscles, the blade quaking but frozen in position before it could touch Jaebum.

“Jinyoung!” Jaebum’s voice sounded indignant now, “ _Listen to me! Pierce me with your sword. End this._ ”

Jaebum started approaching the tip of the blade and it forced Jinyoung to react, to break out of this terrifying paralyzed state. He threw the sword away, as far as he could, Jaebum staring after it as if he planned to run to its resting place. Instead, he turned to Jinyoung, his brows furrowed, his face condemning.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked in Liao, but Jinyoung was sure there was still magic in it because he felt Jaebum’s pain, the desperation almost making him go after the sword, “This hurts so much. How can you do this? Why aren’t you listening?”

Jinyoung jumped away from him and took up his hands to cover his ears, curved around his knees as if that would protect him. Jaebum was still talking, his lips moving soundlessly in front of Jinyoung’s eyes, his expression changing between desperate and enraged. Jinyoung wanted to close his eyes and be anywhere else but he had to observe if Jaebum really wouldn’t go for the sword and accomplish what he tried to force Jinyoung to do himself.

Jinyoung, fortunately, saw Youngjae approaching and changed the hold from his ears to Jaebum’s mouth. It would be the end if he let Jaebum work his magic on Youngjae, if he succeeded. Jaebum fought against that hold, but soon after he fell asleep again, and when he woke up, he was somewhere else, talking with someone else, but Jinyoung was cautious about listening to him from that point on, and he covered his ears whenever Jaebum said anything in Dalhyo, instructing Youngjae to do the same. 

Nobody ever survived anything after that point, the illusions being the last thing that happened before the patient died, and usually they didn’t last that long. Jaebum was already holding out longer than all the examined subjects. Now, Jaebum wasn’t even talking, because he wasn’t waking up. Jinyoung checked his weak pulse whenever he could. 

Even though Jaebum wasn’t conscious, Jinyoung had to make him drink the extract somehow. But the vial in his hands was suddenly ripped out and he glanced up, shocked, to look at Youngjae.

“Jinyoung,” Youngjae said before he could open his mouth, “stop this. It’s enough already.”

Jinyoung had not seen Youngjae’s hand tremble for years, but it was shaking now, holding the poison away from him. It was the last bottle Jinyoung had on himself, the remaining five vials kept by Youngjae.

“Give it back,” he demanded coldly, staring up at his friend.

“No.”

“Youngjae, he will die if he doesn’t take it.”

“He’s been dying for a long time,” Youngjae answered, his lips trembling too, but he seemed determined, “can’t you see what you’re doing? You’re not saving him, you’re _torturing_ him. He begged you for death.”

“We’re close, just a little bit and –“

“No,” Youngjae said, “we’re lost and the poison destroyed his mind. Let him die, while he’s still himself,” he appealed, “let Jaebum go away in peace.”

Jinyoung’s lips twitched with dread. He knew they were lost, he knew Jaebum was on the verge of death whether he took the poison or not, another day or two and even the Sangern wouldn’t keep up his suffering. But how could he let him die? How could he just do nothing?

“You called me by my name,” came the feeble voice from his lap. Jinyoung looked dawn, and he saw that, albeit weak, Jaebum’s eyes were clear and present in a way they haven’t been for some time.

Youngjae, startled by this sudden awakening, dropped the vial on the sand. Jinyoung could reach it, if he wasn’t holding Jaebum in his arms.

“That’s what wakes you up, half-blood?” Youngjae answered with shaky incredulity.

Jaebum smiled a bit in his direction, smoothing his pained face, and looked up at the prince.

“Jinyoung,” he said, taking the hand that was aching to reach for the poison into his own and squeezing it, “Youngjae’s right. I want you to remember me like this, not as a demented shadow. I want to die surrounded by real people, not dead ones.”

Jinyoung couldn’t get any words out through his constricted throat.

“I can only hope that the spell on you will fade once I’m gone,” Jaebum said, and Jinyoung’s tear fell on his face, making its way down his cheek as if he himself was crying.

“I don’t want it to,” Jinyoung answered with a broken voice, lifting their connected hands to feel Jaebum’s touch against his face, “whatever spell you put on me, let it never fade.”

Jaebum’s hand opened to pat his cheek softly.

“Jinyoung, listen to me,” his voice turned urgent, “you and Youngjae have to survive. Find my brother, tell him everything that happened, he will be able to recognize me in your words, he will know it’s the truth. Tell him I love him and that I’m sorry. He will protect you, you can hide away in my library. We have tons of books, you will love it there.”

Jinyoung closed his eyes, a sob escaping him. What was with this goodbye? Jaebum was alive, he was still breathing, it wasn’t the time.

“Jinyoung!” he heard Youngjae’s pressing call, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“Am I hallucinating again?” Jaebum said with wonder and that did make Jinyoung’s eyes open, although he couldn’t see much through the mist of his tears.

He blinked, making them fall down and he travelled Jaebum’s line of sight to his own shoulder to see a small, white bird sitting there. He didn’t even feel the canary land on him and now, surprised, he spooked it with his sudden movement. It flew up, only to sit down on his other shoulder.

“This is-“ he spoke, opening his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Jinyoung, there’s a rider approaching!” Youngjae said and Jinyoung looked up to see a tall, black steed moving toward them swiftly, the rider in purple attire jumping off it as soon as he was close enough.

The person ran to them and fell to his knees on Jaebum’s other side, taking the cloth wrapped around his face off, revealing a deathly pale complexion. His blue eyes didn’t spare a moment to look at Jinyoung or Youngjae.

“Brother!” he spoke, his voice confused between joyful and terrified.

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum boosted himself, his expression amazed. He embraced his brother immediately, clinging to him with desperation, which the other returned. “You’re here,” Jaebum’s voice had intense tearfulness to it.

Youngjae was unexpectedly kneeling beside them, the hand he put on Yugyeom’s shoulder making the Dal Salam look at him sharply.

“Are those your people?” he asked without preamble, motioning to a sand dune that indeed had several horses galloping towards them.

Jinyoung could tell from the man’s expression that those were not his people. Yugyeom made a move as if to stand up but Jaebum pulled on his arm.

“Stay here,” he asked and his brother listened, sitting down again.

Jinyoung, in turn, stood up and took his sword in hand, Youngjae doing the same, preparing for the rapidly advancing attackers. He could see now, that Jackson was on their front, but as soon as they were within earshot a roaring scream came from behind them and the horses threw off all their riders. He looked back to see Yugyeom opening his mouth again and shouting some unknown words, that made the horses chase the soldiers, trying to bite them and kick them, the men swinging their swords around themselves for protection. Nothing could stop Jackson’s approach, of course, when a horse bit him it escaped immediately.

There were dark clouds unexpectedly covering the sky and Jinyoung looked in the direction from which Yugyeom had come, two horsemen racing in his path, one with his hand lifted. As the hand closed into a fist, thunderbolts blasted in a neat line, right before the soldiers, who stepped back with terror. The only one who pushed on was Jackson, who was now getting very close to them. Jinyoung could see the rider raise his hand again.

Jaebum jumped into an upright sitting position to shout: “Bambam, no!”, but the Mage closed his hand and made a lightning bolt strike the king.


	26. The Black Moon

Jaebum watched with dread as Bambam’s lightning hit Jackson, and when he blinked, in the king’s place stood a statue of black stone, a perfect image of Jackson himself but unmoving, his lips frozen in a scream, his hand raised with his sword. All of them stared at the statue with shock, Jinyoung and Youngjae the closest to it, but it was visible enough from his and Yugyeom’s position on the sand. Even the Arulat soldiers behind the statue stood lost and open-mouthed, his brother’s spell on the horses dissolving. Bambam rode forward and halted his white horse between them and the statue of the king, and the other rider dismounted next to them, sinking down to the ground on Jaebum’s other side, taking off his headscarf to reveal Mark’s face.

“Jaebum, what is going on?” he asked hurriedly.

“He was –“ Jaebum started saying but he felt something strange.

They all felt it, he could tell by the shiver that went through his brother and Mark. A thrum of power, of the kind they all had within them. He looked on to see the black stone starting to retract from the fingers, slowly uncovering the skin beneath. When Jackson was in human form again, he took a sharp breath of a drowning person, falling forward but managing to hold himself up by sticking his sword into the sand. He observed his own trembling hand with astonishment, turning it palm up and down. Then he looked up at them, his eyes glowing with striking green before they faded to their normal darkness. 

“Dal’s descendant,” Mark whispered over him, unable to take his eyes of the king.

The one who shook off this unexpected phenomenon the fastest was Youngjae, who took quick steps in Jackson’s direction with a raised blade, Jackson taking his sword up of the ground in answer. The fear returned to Jaebum tenfold.

“Stop!” he shouted, trying to stand up, his brother helping him keep balance.

Jaebum was surprised to see it work, he had used his power more extensively in the past months, seemed to be better at it when he was pained and despairing, but it still required trust. And both of them, Youngjae and Jackson, froze the hands holding their weapons, Jackson furrowing his brow while Youngjae glanced back at him with irritation. He took a step back when Jinyoung called for him.

His legs shot with pain when he started walking in his extremely slow pace towards the king, his brother bearing most of his weight holding him around his waist. Jinyoung run over to help him from the other side, taking Jaebum’s arm over his shoulders, his other hand holding the sword up in protection, observing Jackson for any sudden moves. All the others watched in silence, unsure of what to make of everything that was happening.

Jackson watched his approach with wary consideration, his eyes watching the whole of Jaebum’s body before they returned to his eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked distrustfully.

“The dagger you, well, the one I tried to kill you with was coated in poison,” Jaebum said, “I bathed it in Lover’s Death.”

Jackson’s opened his lips with surprise.

“Then how are you still –“

“Jinyoung worked his own kind of magic on me,” Jaebum answered with a weak chuckle, “but it won’t hold out any longer. If in the next hours I can’t get to the Moonstone, I will die.”

“What?” Yugyeom said with a gasp, “we have to go, Jaebum! We found the place, it’s close –“

“Give me a second,” he cut in with a headache, his brother’s voice getting high when he was panicked.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung hissed with indignation.

“Just a second, Jinyoung. I may never get a chance to say this,” he stated smiling in the prince’s direction and turning to Jackson again, who was holding his sword before himself, watching them all intently.

“Jackson,” Jaebum said, his tone pleading, “please, forgive me for what I’ve done. I attacked you when you trusted me. You have kept so many secrets and yet you trusted me enough to let my power work on you. And I betrayed you, I’m sorry.”

“Jaebum-“ Jackson started.

“I don’t know everything about you. All the blood you’ve spilled, all the things you’ve done, I don’t know about them, or why you’ve done them. I believe you care about people, like you cared about me. You told me to never hesitate, but I survived your strike because you did that.”

“Jaebum, I was going to kill you. I would have if not for Jinyoung and that other man,” Jackson answered with a harsh expression, “I am here to kill you and everyone on your side.”

Bambam appeared some steps next to Yugyeom, dismounting his horse and revealing his face, looking in Jackson’s direction with a warning, as if daring him to try.

“Which is my side? The Dal Salam? Jinyoung? I don’t have a side, I have an enemy. The council is my enemy, but I don’t want you to be one. Why are you siding with them? You are a king in more than just name, you want to protect people. You were born to protect people, you are destined to rule over the Dal Salam,” he said, Jackson’s brows furrowing without understanding. “You are no ordinary half-blood, Jackson. Dal’s blood flows through you, I recognized that when you used your power, all of us here know it to be true,” he softened his expression observing Jackson’s bewilderment, “Fate did not treat you kindly, and your path was perhaps the hardest,” Jaebum reached forward to put his hand over Jackson’s on the hilt of his sword, the king tightening his hold but did not attack him, “I feel that you tried to do what was right and lost hope somewhere on the way. I experienced only a little bit of the darkness you had to face, but I want you to believe it can change. There is still so much that we can save,” he remembered Jinyoung’s words with an anguished smile.

“You don’t know how difficult this enemy is, Jaebum,” Jackson answered, hardening his expression and taking the hand away, “it is not the time to disobey them.”

Jaebum sighed. He didn’t exactly have another chance, the grains leaving the broken sandglass of his life every second. But even without it, his choice would have been the same. The people needed to be freed from the council, the humans, the Dal Salam, and the Moonstone had to be returned to her home. He tried to take a step back, Jinyoung and Yugyeom understanding his cue and making it possible.

“Someday, we will talk about this, and you will explain to me how all of it happened.” He turned to shout to the Mage, “Bambam!”

Blue light shot out of the ground and created a cage, encompassing Jackson and all of the human soldiers, that had been carefully getting closer. Jackson stared in disbelief, swinging at the light, but it just pushed his sword backward.

“For now, you can’t disturb us,” Jaebum pronounced in answer to Jackson’s angered face, “goodbye, Jackson.”

He sensed that he couldn’t stand any longer and his knees buckled, Yugyeom’s and Jinyoung’s hold keeping him from falling to the ground. They sunk down, and Yugyeom placed his other hand under his knees to lift him up, whistling to his horse and putting him carefully in the saddle, Jinyoung helping Jaebum keep balance while Yugyeom climbed behind him, so that Jaebum could rest against his chest and between his hands without falling down.

“We have to hurry,” Yugyeom told Bambam and Mark, who were already mounting their horses. 

“Wait!” Youngjae exclaimed, holding onto Jaebum’s ankle, “take this,” he extended a hand that held a vial with the Sangern extract, “I’m sorry about before, I didn’t think the lake was close and –“

“It’s alright, Youngjae,” Jaebum said, closing his hand around the other’s, “but I won’t take it.”

“Jaebum –“ Jinyoung started.

“I won’t take it,” he repeated, letting an ounce of his power run through the words, “I feel a little better, anyway,” he softened his voice and smiled down at them.

It wasn’t entirely true. The pain was there, as horrible as it had been before, and he was barely holding himself back from clawing at his body. It was as if someone was hammering long needles into every part of his body, constantly. He didn’t feel as weak as before but that was almost like the last spasm of a limb before never moving again. The previous extract he was fed was still at work, would be for some hours, even in his delirious state Jaebum knew Jinyoung always gave it to him with safe advance.

They didn’t know what they would encounter on the finish line. Now, more than ever, Jaebum needed to be of sound mind and able to use his power consciously. And he meant what he said before, he would rather die knowing his brother was by his side, that Jinyoung and Youngjae were safe, than seeing dead people all around, no matter how comforting the idea of his parents appearing sounded. Anyhow, if they all failed, it would be better to die quickly.

Youngjae gritted his teeth stubbornly.

“You!” he turned his face to Yugyeom, “Kim guy, take this,” he passed his brother the vial, “if Jaebum faints, feed it to him. Hopefully, it will give him a day more.”

“Fine,” Yugyeom answered, hiding the vial in his pocket.

Jaebum looked towards the cage, Jackson observing them all with ire. If it went down, Jinyoung and Youngjae would be in grave danger. They would also be in peril if they came with them, but dying in the desert seemed more probable, even if the horses walking carefully around the cage had water on them.

“Take them with us,” he told his brother.

“What?” Bambam demanded with dismay, but Yugyeom didn’t listen to him, he called on two of the horses and they immediately came to him.

“Hurry up,” Yugyeom ordered the two humans, both of them already jumping up to sit in the saddles.


	27. The Alchemist’s game

Hidden between the dunes there indeed was a sizable lake, the sand around it covered with a substance that looked like snow from afar, but was in fact just salt. Another noticeable factor was that in the lake floated bleeding corpses of the warriors Bambam had sent to explore the terrain while they went to get Jaebum. Not one of them survived.

If the lake was real, however improbable it seemed, that meant Tseringma’s prophecy was indeed about what would happen now. Mark was taking many options under his consideration, they had to be prepared. The six of them here had to face whatever came their way.

The number bothered him. It should be seven, it had always been seven for some reason. He told Bambam to let down all the cages his magic kept up, even the one on the desert, holding the humans and the king. Bambam did not agree despite Mark’s prompting, letting down all of the other cages to save his energy, but saying that ‘unless he would be forced to, he would not let the one with the king down.’

Mark gave up this argument because they had little time, and instead asked Bambam to give him a couple pieces of lapis lazuli the Mage always carried with himself, and distributed the gems between all of them. Then he turned to Jaebum, who looked as if he would drop dead any moment, Yugyeom’s help the only thing that made it possible for him to move forward. The two humans he had with him were close by, both looking at him worriedly from time to time.

“ _Do you trust those two, Jaebum_?” Mark asked in Dalhyo, but the humans, especially the one who was not the prince, Youngjae, looked at him suspiciously at that.

Mark had no idea why the actual prince of Arulat was apparently on their side, or at least, was trying to save Jaebum, but they really had no time for more than basic introductions, and the humans telling them all they knew about the council.

“I trust Jinyoung,” Jaebum said in a weak voice, in the language the humans understood.

“Really, half-blood? After all we’ve been through?” Youngjae complained but Mark paid him no mind when he approached the prince. He could hear Yugyeom in the background inquiring irately why the human referred to his brother by ‘half-blood’ and Jaebum explaining it was a term of endearment, which the human categorically negated.

“Give me your sword,” Mark told the prince, extending his hand for it.

The prince hesitated but agreed when he saw Jaebum’s nod, giving him the fine blade.

This was a very old spell, used by his family for generations. Mark wasn’t certain it would help in any way, but it wouldn’t hurt.

“ _May this blade never rust,”_ he started, filling his words with magic, “ _may it always be sharp, may it always hit its mark, may it always obey it’s master’s will and sow fear among his enemies. His strength shall be doubled when he uses it honorably, but may it never help him spill innocent blood.”_

He gave the sword back, the prince taking it cautiously. He asked Jaebum what Mark had said, not understanding the Dalhyo spell, and Jaebum just said Mark had ‘blessed it’, which was basically what he had done, so he didn’t elaborate. He just hoped Jaebum didn’t trust this man unduly.

“What do we do now?” Yugyeom asked, taking a bit of the salt on his hand.

“The ruins are probably underwater,” Mark answered. It was the only place that came into his mind if they were not next to it.

“So we just swim there to check?”

“I have a better idea,” Bambam answered, stepping into the water and motioning for them all to come to him. When they assembled around him, Yugyeom holding Jaebum up securely in his arms, Bambam made a cage that encompassed them and he walked forward, pushing the two humans to walk before him, and once they left the shallow part, the round cage started sinking down, not allowing the water of the lake to touch them. Mark didn’t even know Bambam’s lights could hold off water as well, but it was certainly useful. The lake was very deep and some time passed before their saw something strange in its murky waters, a distortion of some kind that had radiance beneath. When they crashed into this mysterious barrier, Bambam’s cage seemed to break apart and they all fell down to a stone floor beneath.

Mark took a deep breath. The huge barrier above them was suspending the water. He couldn’t place where the source of light was, but its pale glow tinted white the cracked stone floor, the massive columns that had to previously support the ceiling of this place. Half of the walls around them were destroyed, parts of it scattered all over the place in disorderly heaps. On the part of the wall that laid next to their landing place was a fading fresco of Dal’s daughter, her eyes made of emeralds. Mark recognized it because a related image was in the temple in their country, the oldest building that had to be constantly renewed, constructed to resemble the previous one closely. This was the temple of Tsagaan city, the one where Dal fell, where the seven families obtained their power.

It was empty. No sign of the Moonstone or the council, but they had to be there, otherwise, what would the bubble of air be for? Moreover, there was a very odd feel to this space, a sense of wrongness, a sinister kind of magic.

If the temple in Dal was a reconstruction of this one, than beneath the main hall should be the catacombs. Mark looked around and saw that indeed, there were square holes in the ground where he knew they should be, staircases that would lead them down to it. But before he could even move towards the closest one, a lone figure in a black cloak left it, Bambam’s dark clouds instantly gathering over it, but holding the attack. 

Mark had an idea who this was, he had been deconstructing the words of the prophecy for the whole journey. The ‘lost one’, the ‘winds’ from the poem were clues, but also the fact that there was someone who knew how to use the Moonstone and showed it to the council, someone strong enough to defeat the Bhuwakul clan, who might have had a grudge against Bambam’s family, someone who was probably connected to the fact the Wang line survived in the human king. There was one of the Wang family whose death and story was uncertain, so it had to be either him or his descendant.

“Wang Lanlu,” Mark said, the figure turning his head more towards him, “you are Lanlu, aren’t you?”

The figure was silent, after a moment reaching up to take off his hood, revealing white hair, and then taking off the silver mask, a pale, youthful face staring at them with two bright, differently-colored eyes, one green and one blue. Now, Mark was sure it was who he thought, the image similar to the drawings in the Wang family tree, heterochromia a rare enough occurrence.

“Congratulations, you figured it out,” the man said with a smile, “always nice to know who is the one ending your life.”

“How can he be Lanlu?” Yugyeom asked Mark, “Lanlu lived over two hundred years ago.”

“Oh, do you want to hear the story? Should I just tell you?” Lanlu said with an eerie smile, “or should I kill you right away? I mean, you probably want to get to the Moonstone quickly, not that it will do you any good.”

Mark could feel static, and he turned to Bambam.

“Bam-“ he tried to say but the Mage failed to listen to him.

“The one dying will be you, traitor!” Bambam’s lightning hit the man from several points, his body convulsing terrifyingly with it, but just as Mark had thought, it did absolutely nothing to him.

The man laughed with a strange, high pitch, “you must be that Bhuwakul child I didn’t manage to kill the last time.”

Lanlu waved his hand and, before they could react in any way, a powerful gust of wind pushed them in all directions of the hall. Jaebum’s fall was cushioned by Yugyeom, who held onto him tightly. They fell the furthest away, and Mark saw that they were right next to another staircase, but a flock of cloaked figures started leaving from that direction. Youngjae wasn’t that far and started to cut his way through to them, recovering from his fall quickly, slicing the masked heads clear off with frightening swiftness. Bambam was some ways away in a different direction, having collided with a wall he was on all fours, but he was starting to stand up, looking straight at Lanlu and closing him, along with Bambam, inside the cage of light, separating them from the rest. Mark fell right next to the human prince, both of them having to quickly gather themselves despite the rough fall because the masked figures started attacking them with long daggers. The prince was protecting himself and Mark with his sword, but Mark proved to him he didn’t need to be safeguarded. He evaded the closest council member’s knife and caught his wrist, speaking one simple ‘ _gold_ ’ in Dalhyo and the man’s body started transforming. There was now just a gold statue in the man’s place, the other masked creatures taking a step back in fright. Things that thought they couldn’t be killed were indeed most afraid of death.

Lanlu cackled with his horrifying laugh of a demented person, reaching towards Bambam’s light grating and upon his touch, it dissipated into nothing.

“The childish tricks of your clan won’t work on me,” Lanlu said, sending a blast of wind to push Bambam to his knees again, “my father played with these lights as well.”

Mark could hear an explosion, Yugyeom must have been paving his way to the staircase. The prince tried to go in the direction of the sound but Mark stopped him, catching his arm.

“They’re too far away. Let your friend protect them.”

“Jaebum is there!” the prince answered with urgency.

“Yugyeom is with him. There is someone else who might need our help,” he motioned to Bambam, who was getting thrown left and right by Lanlu’s blasts of wind. They were not exactly organized attacks, more reminding of wild nature forces. The powers that used raw elements were always the hardest to control and it appeared Lanlu wasn’t even trying.

“Bam!” Mark called, raising the lapis lazuli in his hand, hoping Bambam could see it.

Before the council members could attack them again, darkness surrounded them, the lapis gem being the only thing that gave off blue light. Mark could see through the dark mists of it well enough to observe Bambam getting hit with a gust of wind again, his body trembling when he fell to the ground. The prince couldn’t probably see anything at all beyond the two of them.

“What happened?” he asked unnerved.

“Bambam hid us,” Mark simply answered, “we are in the place between dimensions, no physical attack can hurt us here and no one can see us.”

“Can you see anything?”

“I can. You need to be prepared. Raise your sword and wait for my sign to strike at neck level.”

Jinyoung had no choice but to obey his requests, unable to see what was going on. Mark doubted that Lanlu had this power or knew what happened with them, the skill of stepping into the cracks of the world was not in the Bhuwakul family for a long time, two generations ago they learned of the existence of it within one of the commoner families and stroke a match in hope of adding it to their wide array of magical abilities. Mark had spent months of his teenage years diligently studying the lineages of all the seven families, he had been beside Bambam when he was discovering his powers. While the other was mostly a loner, he still needed direction from the Tuan family when his abilities started growing, help that Mark’s mother readily provided, wanting to cultivate a very promising child along with her three sons. Farsightedness was greatly appreciated in his family, even if it turned out Bambam was near impossible to manage.

Mark didn’t exactly predict that he would have to watch Bambam constantly thrown around like a rag doll. His arms were trembling every time he stood up, only to be thrown around some more, Lanlu visibly amusing himself with inflicting more damage, laughing maniacally whenever he saw Bambam get up again.

“I must admit,” Lanlu said with a dark chuckle, “you are more durable than the rest of your pitiful clan. It was so easy to step on them and squish them like bugs.”

Bambam let out a yell, his thunder falling on Lanlu again, who laughed while it shook him as if those bolts merely tickled.

Bambam was not the Mage just because of his innate abilities, Mark knew. He had witnessed how Bambam’s vengefulness pushed him forward all his life, drove him to practice more than anyone, to discover all that his abilities had to offer, to build his stamina with the tenacity of one preparing for a thousand-year war. Watching him, Mark had often forced himself to cut down on the playtime with his brothers, closed himself in the workroom to learn every metal’s structure, practiced martial arts that many powerful Dal Salam disregarded. He was always a step behind the Mage, as everyone else had been, Bambam not sparing a second to glance at them, only looking forward to stronger rivals.

It now appeared he had found one like that, the one he had been looking for all his life, the one who had killed his family. But Mark understood that all his strength could only hold him against such a terrible foe a moment, and he feared for Bambam, the blood escaping from his nose in two rows, his limbs barely holding him up after every attack.

He wouldn’t be able to take this much longer, but was he even able to move Mark to the place he was? If not, he would have to lure Lanlu to them.

“What’s happening?” Jinyoung asked, anxiety in his voice. He probably noticed Mark wincing from his cousin’s pain.

“Bambam is fighting Lanlu.”

“Where’s Jaebum?”

“I don’t see him here, but neither do I see Yugyeom and your friend. Let’s hope they already found the Moonstone.”

Another person broke through the bubble and landed in the middle of the gathering. Here he was, the seventh from the prophecy, as Mark had predicted.

“What was that?” Jinyoung asked, hearing the sound among all the noise.

“The king arrived.”

“Jackson?” the prince asked with fury, “we have to stop him!”

“He’s fighting the council members.”

Mark could see Lanlu turn in Jackson’s direction.

“Great-great grandson,” Lanlu said to the king, “how nice to meet you. Came to die along with the rest?”

Jackson stared at him with shock. Lanlu was preparing to strike but Bambam’s lightning suddenly shone everywhere, making it impossible to not close one’s eyes.

“Your opponent is me!” Bambam shouted, hitting Lanlu and the council members around Jackson with tons of thunderbolts, one after another. Jackson looked as if he would go their way, but suddenly his expression changed, and he turned in the direction of the stairs, as if he heard something from there. In a blink, he was gone, not walking away, but vanishing completely, to Mark’s bewilderment.

“Such a weakling,” Lanlu said when Bambam stopped attacking, “so you are just as your whole family was. You thought you were so great, but all it took to defeat you was some desert dwellers and an old, disgraced prince.”

“You will die for what you’ve done!” Bambam snarled, his thunder rumbling overhead.

Lanlu sent him into the wall again, Bambam hitting it with a shrieking scream.

“No, you will die here. And soon, all the Dal Salam will die, either because of your precious Moonstone or killed by puny humans. Thinking ourselves so powerful when we are just mistakes of nature.”

Bambam was barely able to stand, putting all his weight on one leg. And still, he called on for the lightning to strike his opponent uselessly. The next time Bambam was hit, his body landed much closer to them. He couldn’t even stand up anymore, but he closed his raised fist to make the lightning, not even hitting Lanlu, but it was all around him, blinding him from the movement of Bambam’s hand throwing something small, a gemstone Mark guessed, that placed Mark and Jinyoung next to Lanlu. Mark made Jinyoung quickly walk behind the enemy, while he himself would be the first thing Lanlu saw.

“Now!” he shouted to the prince when they returned to the physical dimension and Jinyoung swung his sword with such strength that he cut Lanlu’s head cleanly off before the man could attack Mark.

The terrifying thing was that Lanlu did not die. The head on the ground was laughing while the body still stood straight, the hand lifting to attack them again, but Jinyoung cut it off too, and Mark kneeled down quickly, putting his hand on the head, with a call of ‘ _silver._ ’ He held it for a long time, making sure all of Lanlu’s brain turned into metal, while Jinyoung was frantically dismembering the convulsing body. For safety, Mark wanted to change all of the cut parts into silver, but the council had once again swarmed them.

He had to get to Bambam. The Mage was lying on the ground and looked unconscious, if those men got to him now, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

“Prince!” he called and motioned the Mage, the prince nodding, both of them fighting through the council members in their own way, Mark leaving a row of statues in his wake, while Jinyoung left blood and body parts. They were thankfully close enough to Bambam to protect him in time, the prince lifting his thin body and waking him up.

“Are you alright?”

“I think my leg’s broken. I’ll live,” Bambam answered feebly, his lightning hitting the council around them, making them disperse a little more, “let’s get to the Moonstone.”

When they got downstairs, they didn’t even get a chance to see anything properly, because blinding light filled the whole space, followed by the ground shaking.


	28. Lunacy of the dead

Jackson kicked the light cage uselessly again. He turned around with a sigh, sinking to sit on the sand. The guards were keeping some distance from him, their swords raised and their faces careful.

“Put that down, Captain,” he addressed the man with irritation, “the Mage’s lightning wasn’t able to kill me, do you think a sword will?”

The Captain looked on with mistrust but sheathed his weapon, the soldiers following suit.

He should kill them all for learning what he was. Only, apparently, he was an even more complicated case than he previously thought.

He was already so tired of this. All his life, he had killed anyone who learned this secret, and now, what was the point? Whoever won this one he was done for. If Bambam got the Moonstone, he would probably start the war, that Arulat would lose. Even if they somehow reached peace, either way, he didn’t see the Dal Salam taking him in after all that he had done. If the council kept the Moonstone they would probably deprive him of this foolish crown for not being able to halt their adversaries, execute him if they managed.

It was all Jaebum’s fault. He had slithered into his head with his honeyed words and striking eyes, made Jackson let down his guard, and managed to obtain what he wanted, admittedly, with a high price. Jackson had hoped Jaebum died from that dagger in his stomach, he didn’t want to see him again, he didn’t want to have to run his sword through him. And now Jaebum had the audacity to apologize and ask him for a truce, to confuse Jackson’s mind further with the news of his lineage. His words were still running through Jackson’s brain, he couldn’t get rid of Jaebum’s traitorous voice. As if Jaebum even could change anything, even if he was well-meaning, that didn’t mean the other Dal Salam would listen to him.

“Are you a Dal Salam spy?” the Captain asked him, keeping his distance. He has always been a smart man.

Jackson snorted. Gods, he wished, even though that didn’t end so well for Jaebum, the poison apparently running through his veins.

“Would they leave me here with you if I was on their side?” he asked with a bitter smile, “I am from Arulat, that won’t change whether you believe me or not.”

The Captain seemed to process this.

“Did the Queen know?” he asked.

Jackson didn’t expect that, but why not, he could answer this man’s questions. As far as he knew, the cage over the Bhuwakul estate didn’t go down often. They would probably all die here of thirst in a couple of days.

“No, nobody knew.”

“And your parents? Parent? The human part?”

“I didn’t know them. Either part.”

The man looked at him with suspicion.

“I’m telling the truth. I was an orphan. The council made me the king. End of story.”

“Does the council know?”

“No, I don’t think they do,” Jackson answered, resting his back against the cage. It pushed him away. “They would have killed me if they knew, I suppose.”

“Can you be killed?”

A brave man, that one was. Jackson smiled.

“How would I know? I’m still alive, aren’t I?”

The Captain was a reasonable man, Jackson quite liked him. He seemed more baffled than apt to sudden violence, but some of the other soldiers looked at him crookedly.

“A half-blood king,” the man said quietly, as if he was talking to himself, “what an unbelievable turn of events.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard them speak? I’m not just some king,” Jackson said with sarcastic grandeur, “I am the descendant of Dal, destined to rule the Dal Salam. That would have come in handy when I was starving on the streets.”

His amused monologue was interrupted however, when he saw the walls of the cage receding to disappear completely. Did they kill Bambam, already? He imagined he would last a little longer.

He stood up quickly to grab one of the resting horses by the reins and jump into the saddle.

“Are you going after them?” the Captain asked, “what are you going to do?”

The soldiers looked around themselves with confusion. It was clear they didn’t know what course of action to take, and now, he had doubts if they would listen to his orders. He wasn’t even sure what his orders would be.

“I will decide when I get there,” Jackson told him, unable to answer any other way, “if I was a feeble human, I wouldn’t go where there is so much magic involved,” he advised them before he rode off in the direction of the lake.

He didn’t know what he would do, but this fight, whatever it would be, was his. He wasn’t going to escape from it.

He was never in the ruins, but he knew they were under the waters of the lake. When he stepped into the water, he tried to remember that same feeling of the lightning hitting him, of his skin turning into actual stone, no air, no sensation. He wouldn’t probably be able to swim down there, so sinking had to do it. It only worked when he was wholly submerged and losing breath, his body reacting automatically to the threat, gaining mass to sink down the lake. He broke through some kind of barrier, and landed inside it on a stone floor, returning to flesh. He hardly had time to breathe before he saw the council members move towards him immediately with their daggers. While unable to be killed, their knives were also useless against his power, but there were two other people there. One of them was the Mage, standing shakily on his legs, blood escaping his nose, and the other, a white-haired male, turned to him and called him a ‘great-great-grandson’ which made Jackson hesitate, even though the greeting was promptly followed by a threat. Bambam’s lightning blinded him suddenly, but it didn’t hit him again, aimed instead at the white-haired stranger and the council members surrounding him. He could see it did no damage and wanted to continue fighting with those annoying creatures, but everything froze all of the sudden, all the figures around him unmoving. He had no time to wonder what happened, because a female voice started calling out his name and he had no choice but to follow it, his legs moving on his own down a staircase.

It led him to a wide, long chamber, filled with tombs. Jaebum, Yugyeom, and the other human were here, apparently frozen in time, and so was the flock of the council members before them. But Jackson’s eyes travelled further than that, behind a white grave in the center of the room. For a moment, he saw it, a big stone that floated in the air, looking almost exactly like a smaller version of the actual moon.

Immediately it changed, and instead of the Moonstone, a woman was curled into its shape, dark blood flowing down her whole body, staining the white material of her dress. When she turned her face to him, he saw that the blood was leaking from her eyes, like a waterfall of tears, and he looked down to see the whole floor covered in it. He leapt up with fright, the blood tainting his shoes.

“Don’t be afraid, Jackson,” the woman said, unfolding from her twisted state to put her bare feet on the ground, walking slowly towards him, and he moved in her direction as well.

“Are you Dal?” he asked guardedly.

Her green eyes shone with unnatural light when she looked at him.

“I am,” she answered, her voice melancholic, “I was. And you are my heir.”

“How is that possible? I was a rat on Arulat’s streets, an abandoned child.”

“I know,” she said gently, raising her bloodied hand to his face. He let her touch him despite the fear, “I had watched you your whole life. I saw your misery and I saw your pain, the shame they put you through. I observed the decisions you had taken, the bad ones, and the necessary ones.”

“I killed so many people. The Dal Salam, humans, my enemies, and my friends,” he told her, although she definitely already knew.

“Yes,” she patted his cheek, “you had killed people and you had helped people. You tried and failed so many times. The road you took was hard and cruel, and you will never be freed from the guilt of those sins,” her voice was compassionate when she said, “I, too, had made terrible choices that had cost all of us dearly.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must learn the truth of it, from the beginning, to know what you should do next,” she said, and at one wave of her hand, the whole place was transformed, the cracked floor mending itself, the council and the others gone.

A woman was kneeling down before the open grave in the center, her milky, half-uncovered back to them, her white hair escaping a topknot as she leaned forward and sobbed. Jackson went to her side, Dal with him, looking down to see a body of a venerable man in the tomb, the woman being Dal herself.

“This was the day my Ling Yiban, Wang Yibo, died,” Dal explained, her voice sorrowful, “I can still feel the pain of his absence. I had kept him alive with my magic as long as I could, and I cursed the Moon for making me unable to grow old and die alongside him.”

With a wave of her hand, the setting changed. The Dal of the past was drawing strange symbols around the grave with crimson paint. No, it wasn’t paint, Jackson realized with a shudder, it was blood. She pained the body of Yibo with it too, painted herself and time seemed to move faster as she sat on the ground, day and night coming through quickly, her form moving forward and backward as she whispered a long spell.

Dal moved her hand again before Jackson could see the effect of the spell, but he could very well guess what it was. It moved them to another place, up above the tombs, Dal fighting against a magnificent man, his long white hair let down, his face contorted with a smile of a lunatic.

“Is he –“

“Yes, this is Yibo. My power had brought him back,” she answered, her own face grimacing as a gust of wind forced the past Dal to fall of the building, “I knew the price for bringing him back was life. I had killed one of the servants, painted the symbols with his blood, devised the spell. But the price was much greater.”

“The winds that destroyed Tsagaan,” Jackson said, realization dawning on him, “he was the one who did it?”

“His mind had broken upon coming back. His power was wild, it was trying to realize the payment for the eternal life I tried to grant him,” she said, “the price being all the Dal Salam.”

“Why such a price for one life?”

“Dead things are gone. Bringing them back is against the laws of every world. The power to do such a thing is terrifyingly exacted.”

“But the Dal Salam survived.”

“I killed him,” she said, “I’m sorry, I cannot watch it happen again. I did not manage to do it before Yibo’s power turned this part of the island into a wasteland and destroyed my city. It had used up almost all of my magic, turned me into the stone.”

“So how is Yibo connected to all that is happening now?”

“It was kept secret that Yibo was the one that caused this destruction, forgotten in the coming generations by all but the Wang clan. My children and grandchildren did not want this shame to be passed on into legends. They were the only ones who knew the spell I used and they were sworn to not let other’s learn it.”

“I see. So someone did use it.”

Dal waved her hand again. Now, there was an older woman, a crown of stars on her head, performing the familiar blood ritual over two bodies, the Moonstone floating it the distance.

“Queen Tamia was trying to bring her lover and her son back,” Dal explained, “she managed only with the son, Lanlu.”

“This is the man I saw upstairs,” Jackson said upon looking at his dead body closely.

Dal nodded. The next move of her hand had the young man alive and among other mostly white-haired people in a palace-like space, bright with the glow of the moon.

“Lanlu was paradoxically gifted with the same power as Yibo,” Dal said, “but his other power, the one only Moonlight can uncover, was much more terrifying. He himself had not known he possessed it.”

Jackson watched with a sinking heart as the man touched his mother’s cheek and her skin started rotting, covering with ugly blisters. He did it to everyone in the room, despite their attempts to fight back.

“He’s crying,” Jackson said, observing Lanlu’s aggrieved face, his scream when he fell to the ground. 

“He did not want to do it,” Dal answered, changing the scene to show all of the diseased Wang family dying, “this was the payment for his pass back to life, the whole of our house. Tamia was not trying to make his life eternal, but the ritual is too hard to control, she made his life long-lasting without meaning to. And the magic ruling over it made him the instrument for collecting it, just as it had made Yibo earlier.”

The next image she showed him, was Lanlu leaving Dal, going over to Arulat, but it quickly transformed into an image of him, sleeping in a bed with a dark-haired woman.

“Is she a human?” Jackson asked, the woman’s eyes opening to show brown irises.

“A half-blood,” Dal answered, making the scene go faster, the moonlight creeping into the room, Lanlu waking up covered in sweat and catching the woman’s throat, her skin covering in blister as he watched it with horror. When he took his hand away the woman was dead.

A child run into the room, its white hair visible in the pale light, his big brown eyes staring at the body of his mother and at Lanlu, rooted in place. Jackson could see Lanlu’s green eye shining, his hand extending towards the frozen child, but he caught this hand, forced it back.

“Get out!” he yelled to the boy and the child escaped, left the house. What followed was Lanlu crying over the body of the woman, throwing all kinds of curses at the Moon.

“Why is he like this?” Jackson asked, shaken by the man’s screams, “the payment for his life had been fulfilled.”

“When the brain dies, it will not be the same upon coming back. Yibo too, seemed normal at the beginning, but the corruption of his magic drove him mad. Lanlu fought against it longer than Yibo did, he spent years sitting in Arulat bars and drowning his senses in alcohol. He met his lover there, she made him long for a normal life again. He tried to rein in the madness.”

“I gather he didn’t succeed,” Jackson commented, “the boy, Lanlu’s son,” Jackson remembered with a gasp, remembering what Lanlu had called him, “was he my –“

“He was your great-grandfather, yes. I can show you what happened to him, but it is less cruel, I think, if I just tell you. What he witnessed that night traumatized him. He was taken in by the family of his mother, and he had never used his powers, terrified of them. He even dyed his hair to hide what he was from himself. He would never go anywhere near Dal, would elude the company of our race. And when your grandmother was born, he beat her up if she dared to use the magic in her blood, so that the girl thought it to be evil. But –“ Dal said with a smile, “your mother was a different case. She learned to use the same power that you have to protect herself from her mother’s beatings.”

Dal waved her hand, and the darkness that encompassed them changed to show a short woman, dark-skinned and brown-haired, running into the outstretched arms of a similarly short and tanned man.

“This is your father. He was a human, but he knew about your mother’s powers, he accepted and loved her, even though the times then were already becoming dangerous for those of Moonblood. They were both very poor, she escaped home to be with him and he had been an impoverished street cleaner. But they didn’t throw you away, Jackson.”

The scene changed to show his mother pregnant, his father leaning down to talk to her round stomach, her chocolate eyes crinkling at the corners beautifully when she laughed.

“Your father was struck mortally by a speeding carriage,” Dal said, Jackson’s heart squeezing, “your mother died while she was giving birth to you, the street midwife not able to help her.”

“So my birth killed her?”

“No,” Dal negated with feeling, “she was weak because she had little to eat and her husband had just died. But she loved you.”

Jackson felt empty. He could have had a mother, could have had a father, it was absurd coincidence and cruel fate that had taken them away.

“What else?” he asked, unable to think about that any longer, “what else do you want to show me?”

The setting changed to show Lanlu travelling through the desert, looking ragged and starved.

“He had spent the following years on the desert, never once drinking or eating, hoping it would kill him. He also discovered the ruins of Tsagaan while trying to drown himself in the lake. But all this just deepened his insanity,” Dal told him pitifully, “his thoughts often returned to me, to the damage my power cost him. I am connected to all of the Wang clan, I could feel his despair as well as I felt your loneliness, but in my dormant state, I could do nothing.”

“I still don’t understand where the council comes into all this.”

“Some eighty years ago, Lanlu met the desert dwellers. Those were people from various places, some criminals that had escaped Arulat’s jurisdiction, some fugitive slaves from the mountain tribes. They stuck together to survive in this rough place and they took Lanlu in, he himself not really for or against them, but bored with just talking to the Moon. Upon learning of Lanlu’s power, they decided to use it. Those of them who had a grudge against a country that had wanted to see them hang aspired to overtake Arulat, and they had slipped into it’s structure, having Lanlu kill anyone who opposed them. In his tattered mind, he began to feel pleasure from taking life. Very soon, they had become the council, and they were ruling over Arulat.”

“So that’s how it happened.”

“Yes, but that’s not all. The council feared that the Dal Salam would discover Lanlu and thwart their plans, so they started spreading misinformation, made caricatures of half-bloods attacking people without any reason, of the Dal Salam thinking themselves better than humans. In the meantime, they had started to grow old and it terrified them. Knowing Lanlu’s story, they had decided to use me to obtain what he had: youth and immortality.” 

Dal showed him Lanlu and the council creeping into a temple that looked similar to this one, white-haired people fighting them off while they were trying to take the Moonstone, thunder rumbling, and Lanlu’s wind throwing the attackers to the sides in answer. This was the slaughter of the Bhuwakul family, Jackson realized. Whatever they threw at him, Lanlu couldn’t be killed, and he used his hands to spread the sickness to some of them, others he literally threw into the council members’ daggers. It was a lengthy fight, but the image of it was rushed, and soon, Jackson saw the council burning the bodies and taking the Moonstone, moving it to a cart, and out of Dal, far into the ruins.

What followed was Lanlu painting the floor and the council members with blood, laughing maniacally when he did it, but it did not exactly look the same way Dal’s or Tamia’s drawings had.

“Lanlu had designed his own spell. Its power was supposed to draw on any blood spilled on the island, but mostly Dal Salam blood, while it had also taken its power from unborn Dal Salam children. The force of its dark magic is throwing the island out of balance, the whole world will slowly become warmer until all the Dal Salam die, all the humans following afterwards. He had made me a conductor of destruction,” she said with disgust.

“Why?”

“He wasn’t exactly in his right mind when he did it. If he was, he would have tried to destroy me. He considered my power an abomination, started to regard all of the Moon’s magic vile. But in his crazed mind, he thought it would be fun to make others immortal like him.”

The faces of the council kneeling on the floor were becoming suddenly young again, but when they turned to look one to another, they started screaming with terror.

“What’s happening? Why are they like this, they look beautiful.”

“Outwardly, yes. But they see the truth underneath.”

With a motion of her hand, Jackson saw it too, faces more monstrous than he could have imagined, rotting and disgusting.

“That’s why they wear the masks,” Jackson gasped with understanding.

Dal nodded.

“You know what happens after that, they restrict knowledge on the Dal Salam, they push Arulat even more into its disordered state. Meanwhile, Lanlu’s phobia of the Moon didn’t let him get out of the ruins any longer, so he mostly spend his days shouting at me. By this point, he had lost all of himself, so it was good the Moon’s presence forced him to hide in here, or he would have probably killed hundreds more,” she turned to look straight at Jackson, the space around them returning to its initial, but still timeless, state.

“So do you see now, what has to be done? Even if you were to cut off all the council’s limbs and throw them into the sea, even if you burned them whole, my power will not stop ruining the world.”

“Are you saying that –“

“I have to be destroyed to return things back to the natural order. My dark magic has to leave this world for it to function.”

Jackson’s heart seized. He felt Dal’s words were final, that there was no other way. She needed him to become a murderer again to save them all.

His gaze travelled to the frozen form of Jaebum on the ground.

“But my friend needs your help,” he spoke, already sensing what the answer would be.

“My power is too corrupted from the two resurrections and the ritual they forced me into. Even if I help him, he would become like them, he won’t be a real living thing.”

Jackson gritted his teeth. So much for him trying to help matters.

“So am I supposed to cut you down?”

“My skin is like yours, a blade won’t harm me. You won’t be able to destroy me, but the Kim leader can. Get the Whisperers to help you. They are your people, direct them,” she touched his cheek again, smiling up at him with hope, “I would have liked to stay and be a family you never had, but my time here is done. Even I had to die someday, and it is today. You must undo all the wrong our line had done, that I have done. Remember, the power of the Moon is within you, it will always be. Your hands might be bloodied, but your magic is still pure,” her hand receded, and with a movement of her hand, time started running again, the Moonstone back in its place. 

Jackson immediately moved in Jaebum’s direction, but that extremely fast man who fought with him in the castle, barred him with his sword, his expression determined even though he knew he couldn’t hurt the king. Jackson pushed on, the man holding him back with his frame, rooting his feet into the ground.

“Let me through! I need to talk to him,” Jackson ordered, trying to grab the curved sword.

“Over my dead body,” the man answered, pushing him back again.

“Jaebum!” Jackson shouted, deciding on a different course of action as they had no time to waste with the approaching wraiths, “the Moonstone is what makes the climate warmer, the reason why new Dal Salam can’t be born!”

Jaebum raised his bleary eyes at him from his brother’s lap.

“Please, Jaebum, trust me. The Moonstone has to be destroyed to return the natural balance! Dal herself told me that! She wants to rest in peace.”

“What?”

“I can’t do it myself! I need your brother’s help! Please, this is the only way.”

Jaebum nodded with sudden understanding.

“Yugyeom!” he shouted to his brother who stood to protect him from the oncoming council members.

“Not until she heals you!” Yugyeom shot back, pushing away the attacker by a hand on his face, kicking another one.

“Her power is corrupted with dark magic!” Jackson shouted back, Jinyoung’s friend finally letting him go to fight with the increasing number of the council members around them, Jackson taking up his own sword to do the same, “she can’t help anybody anymore!”

Yugyeom and the assassin-like guy looked at him with fright.

“Don’t trust him!” the man told Yugyeom as he cut down somebody’s arm, “he’s a murderous snake! We have to try to use her power!”

“Yugyeom!” Jaebum spoke up again, “he’s telling the truth! You can feel the sickening magic of this place too. Jackson would have no gain from destroying Dal! Do what he says!”

“No!” Yugyeom answered with bared teeth, “We have to try!”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum’s voice turned calm suddenly, but still intense, and a shiver run through Jackson with a surge of power that went around them, “ _listen to my voice,”_ that was all Jackson understood, Jaebum speaking some more words in Dalhyo, that had his brother suddenly standing straighter.

A little white bird left the Dal Salam’s pocket and landed on his opened palms, Yugyeom leaning down to it to whisper something. He boosted it up and it flew, up above their heads, above the heads of the council, the cloaked figures stopping their attack on them to try to throw knives at it, but to no avail. The bird flew straight to the Moonstone and upon meeting it, blinding light filled the room, the noise of the explosion following seconds after.

Jackson was pretty sure even he couldn’t survive this, but when he opened his eyes, he saw that the Mage’s light cage had enveloped them all. Upon turning around, he saw Jinyoung, carrying Bambam in his arms, the other Dal Salam by their side. The Mage looked as if he was struggling, sweaty, and bleeding from the nose, his expression dolorous but intent. Around the cage, the eruption was obliterating anything on its way, the council members were burning out in flashes, the stone ceiling was flying away to every side, the columns shaking and falling down, the water above them evaporating completely, leaving only salt around.

When the mayhem stilled, Bambam’s cage disappeared. They were left in a deep crater, the ruins even more damaged. It was night now, the Moon shining bright above them.

The three that did not see the Moonstone being blown up, stared at them with confusion, Jinyoung handing Bambam to the remaining Dal Salam, who slid with him to the ground, while he ran to Jaebum. But before anyone could ask anything, Yugyeom spoke up with anguish, his hands holding his brother up by his shirt.

“How could you do this? How could you make me do this, Jaebum?”

Jaebum raised his weak hand to run it through his brother’s hair.

“It had to be done.”

“I didn’t want to,” Yugyeom spoke, his voice throaty, “this was our only chance! I can’t lose you. You can’t leave me alone.”

He started sobbing into Jaebum’s shirt, his brother patting his head.

They were all focused on Jaebum, but Jackson guessed they needed some sort of explanation.

“Dal ordered us to kill her to return the natural balance,” he spoke, looking mostly at the Mage and the other Dal Salam, because he couldn’t bear to look at Jaebum, “her magic was corrupted with Lanlu’s and the council’s dark spells, she couldn’t help Jaebum,” they were still gaping at him wordlessly, so he added, “Jaebum used his power to make Yugyeom blow her up with a bird.”

“Lair!” Bambam snarled. Even in his visibly diminished state, he still looked ready to rip him apart, “you dirty fraud! You deceived them to kill Dal!”

“Wait, Bambam,” the Dal Salam holding him spoke, “this makes sense. Everything else in the prophecy checked out. And here are ‘the seven that will bid her goodbye.’ This was the ‘birdsong ending bloodshed!’”

“I will not let this parasite live because of some pro-“ but his sentence was cut off with a cough.

Jackson unwittingly turned to the other side and he saw Jinyoung taking out some kind of vial of Yugyeom’s pocket. But when he was opening it, Jaebum stopped him, closing his hand around it.

“No, Jinyoung,” he said, almost like he was addressing a child.

The other human took out the vial of their joined hands and hurled it away, the glass breaking over the stone floor.

“Jaebum’s right, Jinyoung,” he said, his hand resting comfortingly on Jinyoung’s shoulder, “there is no point anymore. Respect his wishes.”

Jinyoung raised his fevered gaze to the human and then went over all of their faces. 

“You!” Jinyoung exclaimed with fury, and Jackson thought it was directed at him again, but the prince turned his face to Bambam, “Aren’t you the most powerful magician in your country? Do something!”

“I don’t have such power,” the Mage replied weakly, looking as if he would lose consciousness any moment, “nobody, even the Mokoe clan couldn’t heal him from this.”

“This is your fault!” Jinyoung shot back at Bambam, his teeth bared and his expression agonizing, “you sent him there, you gave him the poison!”

Bambam opened his mouth as if to answer but he shut them again, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow, he himself pained, though from his injuries or from Jinyoung’s words, Jackson didn’t know.

‘Even the Mokoe clan’ Bambam had said. But the Moonstone, they were all certain she could have healed him. She probably would have if her power wasn’t tainted.

Jackson looked at his own hand. He remembered his skin turning into black stone, how the Moonstone had looked. ‘The power of the Moon within him’ Dal had said. Jaebum floated in moonlight, but he had other powers, Lanlu too. And the Moon shone on them now.

Jaebum turned his exhausted eyes to him and smiled in the softest goodbye. Then he closed them, his burned and bruised face calming suddenly, the hurt expression straightening. Jackson’s heart jumped and he started making his way to him, he pushed away Jinyoung’s friend that tried to stop him, kneeled next to Jinyoung who was too busy despairing and shaking Jaebum awake to notice his approach.

Jackson took his sword and forced the muscles of his palm to relax, to not turn into stone as he cut a deep stripe across it, feeling the itch of it. When he raised Jaebum’s lifeless hand to do the same, Jinyoung tried to stop him. The man who was holding up Bambam had appeared and held Jinyoung back.

“Let him do this, prince,” he said, fighting with Jinyoung’s blind attempts to free himself.

Jackson didn’t wait, cutting Jaebum’s palm, still alive enough to move at the pain of it, and grabbing it into his, squeezing hard, letting their blood mingle.

Nothing happened. He shook with hopelessness, what else could he do? His body should protect him somehow, react to poisoned blood. Could he even do anything? How could he do this?

“The words for ‘heal’ in Dalhyo?” he asked Yugyeom who answered him in his tearful voice.

“ _Heal_ Jaebum,” he repeated, glancing up at the Moon imploringly, “protect him, please.”

‘If Jaebum dies,’ he thought, losing hope, ‘let me go away with him.’

He felt the liquid of their blood moving abruptly between their palms, changing shape, hardening. When he took his hand away, he saw that there was a round, black stone, almost diamond-like, in Jaebum’s palm. The cut on Jaebum’s hand was mending itself, disappearing completely. He looked up and saw that a scar Jaebum had had before on his right cheek was smoothening as well, the skin of his face losing his dark, burnt color, becoming a more muted tan, and all of them watched in astonished silence as Jaebum opened his eyes and sat up with a deep breath, clutching the stone in his fist.

They were all speechless and paralyzed, the first able to say anything the black-haired Dal Salam Jackson didn’t know.

“Jaebum, are you-“

“I’m fine,” Jaebum cut in with amazement, “I’m feeling fine,” he stated giddily.

That seemed to free every one of the standstill, Yugyeom and Jinyoung throwing themselves towards Jaebum and clinging to him from both sides, Jaebum laughing and holding them closer, while the other human kneeled down between Jinyoung and Jackson, who had moved back from surprise earlier.

“Let the half-blood breathe, come on, he almost died,” he said, but when he managed to pull the prince marginally back, Jaebum smiled at him with affection too, and the human moved in to hug him as well, Jinyoung not giving him too much space, so now Jaebum was squeezed by three people at once, all four of them between various states of laughing and crying.

The black-haired Dal Salam was smiling widely from his position behind Jaebum, reaching his hand to touch the half-blood’s back. The Mage had been holding himself up on his elbows, deposited by the other man on the ground close by, and now he fell back with a heavy exhale, covering his eyes with his arm, a chuckle escaping him. Yugyeom looked up and untangled himself from the mess of bodies, giving his brother’s nape one last squeeze before he went over to Bambam’s prostrate form. The other human also moved back a bit, leaving Jaebum to be wrapped fully in Jinyoung’s embrace, gripping his back with paralleled force.

Jackson was only able to lift up his own hand to cover his mouth, inactively staring at the scene. When Jaebum glanced at him and smiled, this time not in goodbye, but with joy and tender emotion, he felt a tear go down his cheek, soon followed by another. His hands had always only killed before, his power had only protected him. He didn’t know that he could help someone else with it, that death was not the only thing he was able to bring.


	29. The New Era

Explanations – that’s how Yugyeom remembered the way back through the desert. His own explanations, Mark’s too, but mostly Jaebum’s, Jinyoung’s and Jackson’s lengthy stories, and the king’s the most, as it encompassed history that went back to old times, the whole of Lanlu’s wretched tale, Jackson’s own life from the time he was a beggar, throughout the King’s assassination, and everything that happened afterward. Also, some of the talks with the human captain of the guard and his crew, that were given a choice if they would like to get back to Arulat on their own, or sail with them, and having both the king and the prince persuading them, even if one was a half-blood and the other one a wanted traitor, bearing in mind the information that the council was no longer there, they just decided to come along. Which resulted in Yugyeom not only having to describe the whole story of the Moonstone and the descendant of Dal being found to his cabin crew, but also why exactly there were humans on the ship.

From all the pieces they managed to paint a more-or-less coherent picture of the events, from its beginning to the present. Some parts were only suggestions, Jaebum didn’t outright say he had been sleeping with the king, but Youngjae insinuated it clearly enough.

It was such a mess of people, and voices, and opinions, that Yugyeom’s head hurt. The connections between everyone were so strange, especially the two humans, the king, and his brother. He would have thought that the worst at being able to speak calmly among them would be Bambam, but the Mage was recovering the whole way and was still fragile, he couldn’t move much with his broken leg, and he slept a lot. The most terrible two turned out to be Jinyoung and Jackson, who had so many issues between them Yugyeom stopped listening at some point. Jackson killed the prince’s father, Jinyoung killed Jackson’s wife, who was also his mother, Jackson tired to kill Jaebum and Jinyoung, and so on, and so forth. Youngjae assisted by throwing sarcastic comments at the king, and Jaebum tried to reconcile them, mostly by reminding Jinyoung that Jackson had saved his life. But if Jaebum took someone’s side too much, they would again treat each other with hostility, so Jaebum was perpetually in the middle of that storm, and Yugyeom left him there, because that one, his brother had to deal with on his own after making these people attached to him.

Yugyeom spent time with Jaebum, of course, he had almost just lost him, and they haven’t seen each other for a long time, but Jaebum had these humans glued to him. If it was not Jinyoung, it was Youngjae, if not him, then Jackson. Yugyeom often took refuge in the Mage’s cabin, looking after Bambam, providing anything the other needed, or spending time with his quietly. Bambam seemed more subdued than ever and Yugyeom wouldn’t pry, but he was very curious what he thought about all of this.

It was in that same cabin, they all gathered in, so that Bambam wouldn’t have to move, but could still take part in this conversation. They had uncovered the past, now, it was time to look towards the future.

Jackson stood by the door while Mark and the human Captain sat on the two chairs in the cabin. Jaebum, Jinyoung, and Youngjae sat on cushions on the floor, the prince close to his brother, as he always was. Yugyeom himself sat on Bambam’s bed, after having taken his immobilized leg cautiously up and over his lap, so that he could remain comfortable.

Before the others could speak, Yugyeom asked the Mage what he thought they should do. He was one that most wanted to start the war, and so Yugyeom had to check it was not still Bambam’s view. All of them managed to coexist on the ship somehow, but the whole island, that was a more complicated matter.

“We will take Jackson with us to Dal. The other clans have to discuss it, but after all that happened, if the Kim and Bhuwakul clans stand behind him, additionally a member of the Tuan clan, they will probably decide to return the Wang dynasty to its place,” Bambam proclaimed, stunning everybody.

“You will support Jackson?” Jaebum asked precariously.

“The Bhuwakul clan’s duty is to protect the Moonstone,” Bambam answered shrugging, “he is the only remnant of Dal, and he has the Moon’s power. As long as he does justly by my people, I will protect him.”

“You will not be given the freedom to do whatever you want,” Yugyeom told Jackson. He was greatly indebted to him for saving Jaebum, but he would not let him destroy their country, “the seven clans were always led by one, but there existed a subdivision of power. Our laws will not let you move forward without consulting the clans. And –“ he added, staring into the king’s eyes, “I and Bambam will be watching you very closely until you gain our trust. Remember that I was the one whose power destroyed the Moonstone, I can do it with you too, if I consider you to be a threat.”

Jackson stared back with a hard expression.

“What about the conflict? What about Arulat? I may be from the Wang line, but I was born in there, my purpose had always been to help its people.”

“Well, Jinyoung is the heir to the throne,” Bambam answered, “let him take the crown and – “

“No,” Jinyoung suddenly spoke up, “even when Jackson was controlled by the council, he helped our people in ways I never even thought of. I have turned my back from the suffering on our streets, I was absorbed by my own sorrow. I am not ready to be a king, I do not have what’s required,” Jinyoung said surprising the others, except Jaebum and Youngjae, who looked as if they had this conversation with him before, “and the people know Jackson, they like him. Despite my own issues with him, I do think he will be a better king. And if I see him misusing his authority, I will ask Yugyeom to blow him up, too,” he intoned ominously.

“What do you think, Captain?” Jackson asked the human invited to this strange conference.

“I guess it is possible,” the man answered, “people do know you, and you have been protecting the kingdom for a long time, they trust you to defend them. But your lineage will be a problem for some of them, I’m sure. We can just not tell them, but I can’t guarantee my soldiers will keep quiet about this.”

“So you want to remain Arulat’s king?” Bambam asked Jackson with an unreadable expression.

“You all seem to be overlooking the obvious solution,” Mark spoke up, standing from his place, “let’s just make him king of both.”

“What? How do you want to do that?” Youngjae answered with a snort.

“I’m going to explain, but first I have a proposition,” Mark said, stopping right before Jackson, who was leaning his back against the wall with his arms crossed, “I want to marry you.”

A very awkward and shocked silence followed. Yugyeom could see what Mark was getting at, but that truly lacked any finesse on his part.

“I’m sorry?” Jackson sputtered out.

“You have to have someone from a noble family by your side. And I –“

“Firstly, aren’t there no marriages in Dal?” Jackson interrupted, “and secondly, I mean no offence, but we met a couple of days ago. Can’t I just marry Jaebum? He’s from a noble family.”

Yugyeom was already opening his mouth to overrule this offer, he was not about to let his brother end up with someone so hazardous, but Jinyoung beat him to it, and he was afraid another fight would break out between them when Mark spoke up again.

“We have no marriages, but you can make me a part of the Wang clan, you are the only one of the line, which makes you the head of the clan. I want to be recognized as your partner in both, Arulat and Dal, which will make me the royal consort. This is, of course, a strictly political proposition.”

“Shouldn’t I carry on the Wang bloodline?” Jackson asked skeptically.

“Of course, by all means, it will be very good to do that. I’m sure many of Dal Salam women will jump at the occasion the have the king as their lover. Any child of yours will be recognized in Dal as the Wang line, I’m not proposing that you don’t try for an heir,” Mark answered with a chuckle, “let Jinyoung remain your heir for Arulat’s throne.”

“Typical Tuan mentality,” Bambam interjected, “you want to be the one most in power.”

“Yes, I do,” Mark answered and everyone stared at him, “I am the third son, there is a small chance for me to become the head of my clan, to lead the gathering. But –“ he looked at them with resoluteness, “do any of you have a precise plan what to do from now on? Do you want the responsibility of fixing Arulat’s economy? I have the means to do it, and I have a strategy,” he turned to Jackson once more, “in exchange for you making me a ruler, I will help you with everything I have.”

“Let me hear what you propose,” Jackson told him with furrowed brows, “and then I will decide if I want your help.”

Mark smirked.

“What I propose has to do with the past; not one country, but a union of two. Jackson would be king of both, but they will have separate structures. There is already a well-employed structure of power in Dal, this doesn’t have to change much, but the problem is Arulat. The council is gone, and they left the country in disarray. But –“ Mark said with dreadful optimism, “there is no better time for change than during chaos. New structures have to be implemented and transformation is necessary, but at the same time, it cannot be completely overtaken by the Dal Salam, people will not stand for it. We can help improve the economy greatly, heal the fields, help up with starting sea trade again, share what we have, but without proper management, we will just be throwing money into a well. The country needs to be controlled by more than it’s king, by Arulat folk.”

Jackson nodded, still unsure.

“You, prince,” Mark turned to Jinyoung, “you said you are not ready to be a king, but you make an awful lot of good points in your discussions. Jaebum insists you’re very smart. Do you want to rebuild your country, or do you want to withdraw into the shadows?”

“I do care about my father’s kingdom,” Jinyoung answered, “I will do what I’m able to help.”

“This will be a tremendous amount of work. You have to find and gather people who will be skilled enough to be of use, but who are not adverse to change. Nobles, merchants, best-known members of their professions. People from all sectors, that will want to revolutionize the kingdom, make it better for everyone. You will have to find them, convince them, and unite them, despite differences, in a common goal.”

“We know which nobles might be of use,” Youngjae stated, “Jinyoung had me spying on the council for years, I learned some names of those they wanted to eliminate because they intended to oppose them. I’m sure Jackson knows them too, though I’m uncertain how they would react to him. But if Jinyoung talks to them, I think they might listen.”

“That’s true,” Jinyoung added, “I was not social and many nobles hated my mother, but I have my father’s name. They will grab this chance to gain influence.”

“Jackson,” Jaebum addressed the king, “you know the streets. I’m sure you can obtain information easily about where to find decent and competent people you need. You too, Youngjae.”

“And I think,” Jinyoung said turning to the Captain, “we already have one candidate. What do you think?”

“I think all of you, noble lords, know more about this than I do. But there is one great setback that is not about the economy. The conflict between the humans and the Dal Salam, the animosity and fear.”

“I didn’t forget,” Mark spoke again, “Jaebum and Jackson painted the situation clear enough for me. Captain, did your people believe in the whole story about the council?”

“More or less.”

“Why? Because, as far as I know, people in Arulat hated the council too, and because a person they trusted, you Captain, believed it,” Mark smiled smugly again, “we will use the council to resolve this problem.”

“How?”

“Common enemy,” Yugyeom said, understanding now, what Mark planned to do.

“The ones who stole from them, lied to them, kept them in the darkness. The ones who wanted to push them into a war for their own gain. They will become demons in people’s minds, and Jackson,” he turned to the king again, “Jackson will become the hero that freed them from those horrible creatures. A hero for people to love, who has ended injustice. That he is a half-blood will become secondary.”

“That sounds very grand,” Yugyeom answered, “but how do you want them to believe that? They will think it’s our propaganda.”

“Because this will not come from us, but from them,” Mark answered, “Jackson, Youngjae. You know people from the poorest areas, the general folk, it must be them that will spread this. Courtesans, barkeeps, shoe cleaners, street vendors. They have to be outraged by the council’s doings, spread it to their clients. Circulate how Jackson single-handedly got rid of them because they were disregarding the people that he loved,” Mark narrated with great excitement, “it will not be the Dal Salam that offered their help on their own, they will be in such awe of Jackson’s diplomatic skills, that they will have no choice but to undo all the wrongdoings that happened in those times the evil council governed. Humans fear our power? Make Jackson the most powerful of us, their protector in chance we would want to overtake them. But the people and the Dal Salam will greatly love and fear Jackson. The help the humans receive will not be charity on Dal Salam side, it will all be because the member of the richest, ruling Tuan clan, was so much charmed by Jackson’s strength and wisdom, he spared no expenses in winning the king’s hand.”

“You intend to make him a living legend,” Yugyeom answered, “the hero of the people.”

“You wanted peace, didn’t you, Yugyeom? Let Jackson be the symbol of it. He is already half of one kingdom, half of the other. What better candidate than him?”

“Mark, are you sure this will work?” Jaebum asked, “there was so much blood spilled. So many half-bloods were killed or mutilated.”

Yugyeom hadn’t known about all that happened in Arulat until Jaebum told them about it, and he couldn’t imagine the cruelty it took to dig out a child’s eyes.

“People did it because they were allowed to, they were even encouraged to do it. Once the law does not overlook people being murdered, no matter the blood they have, most will not dare raise their hands on anyone. Murder and mutilation must be punished, but only from now on.”

“You want to overlook past crimes?” Yugyeom spoke with outrage, “how can you let this injustice pass?”

“Aren’t you the one who speaks for forgiveness? Anyhow, I am not going to let it pass, but we will push all the blame on the council. The humans must feel that they were the victims, that they were manipulated into things they would have never done otherwise. We must let them save face, or their contempt for us will never fade. If they feel we privilege and protect one group over the other, they will rebel. Bambam can take sides, Jinyoung can take them, but Jackson and I will have to do what is best for everybody. Jackson will earn their love with his heroism and goodness, and I will be the one who will bring money into their pockets. Overlooking their cruelty and letting it fade into the past as the council’s fault is the price of peace between the nations.”

Mark spoke long and meticulously about his plans, covering even the smallest of projects, and Yugyeom was overwhelmed by the amount of options that Mark took into consideration. This was very bizarre, Mark had never voiced such ideas on clan gatherings, he was generally rather quiet on them, but this, it sounded as if he has been planning a bloodless takeover of Arulat for years, even though some of the events he based his schemes on had just happened. Yugyeom was not sure if he could trust him, his parents have opposed some ideas of the Tuan clan before, but it wasn’t like Mark was speaking for the Tuan clan. He was speaking for himself, and his tactics were so daring, that no one else could have come up with them. But they all listened because none of them was certain what to do on their own, and he gave them precise tasks that they would have to perform in order for this to pass. He divided this into manageable categories that would gradually change the island. Yugyeom realized with fright that if he succeeded, Jackson would be the legendary king, but the one behind everything would be Mark. Well, at least there was a possibility that Mark’s power could work on Jackson, as it had on Lanlu, but then, he wasn’t really sure if Mark wasn’t the more dangerous of the two. 

“What do you think about this, Jaebum?” the king turned his eyes to Yugyeom’s brother.

“I am not suitable for such complicated political matters,” Jaebum answered, smiling good-naturedly, “but I think it’s worth it to try. If many clever people come together to resolve a problem, I believe it’s possible to end this conflict and start again.”

Jackson sighed.

“This is like throwing a coin and waiting on which side it will land,” Jackson said, “maybe it will work, maybe not, but the risk is huge.”

“Unlike Jaebum, I’m a good gambler. And a gamble is what we will have to do,” Mark answered, putting his hand on the king’s shoulder with a satisfied expression.


	30. Surrender

Bambam stared at the throne tiredly, then he just fell heavily on its emerald padding. All the others were gone now, this couldn’t hurt, it was just a chair that no one dared to sit on. Bambam himself had never had enough courage, but now, he had been preparing that chair to be sat on for weeks, he could very well just use it for a moment.

He felt as if none of them have slept an awful lot since they returned from the desert. Right away, the clans were gathered, so that Jackson could present his story. This invoked such confusion that the clans didn’t even talk about disciplining Bambam after all that he had done to the Kim family. After they had reached a general agreement to restore the Wang clan to its place, Jackson immediately rode out to join Jinyoung and the Captain in Arulat’s castle. The situation there had to be organized quickly, and Mark went to help out as well, when he managed to reach some kind of accord with his grandmother. Yugyeom spelled four doves to pass information between them quickly, and they flew in and out of the castle all the time, while Yugyeom and the head of the Tuan clan were busy counting and splitting resources.

The Mokoe clan had healed Bambam’s leg, but he had no time to rest afterward, as he was urged to travel with them to Arulat’s countryside, safeguard them while they went through a long and difficult process of healing the fields. After that, he was in Dal for a short moment, before he had to once again go to Arulat to present himself and kneel before the king for all of the human nobility and other candidates, that Jinyoung was gathering to rule the country, to see. When he returned, the preparations to crown Jackson according to longstanding traditions had taken most of his time.

Even Jaebum, who, shockingly, started to actually attend the clan meetings along with his brother, was busy with his own unconnected project. While they all took care of political and economical issues, Jaebum had revealed his plan at the gathering to take the blinded half-bloods from Arulat, and any half-blood that would want to go with him and instill them safely in his home. He went to Arulat on his own to find and talk to them, but he returned with about thirty blind children, and other people of varying ages, for some reason escorted by Youngjae. Bambam had heard that Yugyeom allowed Jaebum to call all the children with the Kim name, but he didn’t even have time to convey to Yugyeom that thirty children of unknown lineage were a bit too many.

Finally today, the coronation had taken place. Jinyoung had remained in Arulat to look after it, while Jackson and Mark were here. They had to stay at least a week through all the celebrations, and Bambam didn’t even want to think about that, he would rather just sleep through it. He had to prepare all of it, but did he really have to attend it?

“Is it comfortable?” Yugyeom asked, and Bambam opened his eyes to see him smirk in the saturated sunlight seeping through the curtains, “should I bow, your majesty?”

“It’s not especially comfortable, but I could fall asleep even standing up.”

“It’s already late, you should go to bed.”

Bambam closed his eyes again, stretching. Yugyeom was treating him with warmth after all this and it made the guilt grip his heart with iron claws. Jaebum, too, didn’t seem to hold him as responsible as he should, but Jaebum was never affectionate towards him, so it was easier to bear. But Yugyeom’s compassion made him ashamed of himself.

Fighting with Lanlu disturbed his view of himself and his actions. The man had clearly been mental, but all his rage, all the vengeance, it ate at him, until he was empty of anything else. Bambam shuddered at the thought he could become the shell that Lanlu was. He had always thought that his actions were justifiable, that he was doing everything to protect the Dal Salam. But what happened had forced him to consider if his judgment wasn’t too tainted by the tragedy that befell his house. It made him think that maybe what he wanted wasn’t really the best for the people, for the island.

It scared him, the loneliness that he was driving himself into. Jackson had lost his family too, had been in a situation far worse than Bambam, who had been taken care of by the Tuan clan. He had rejected their affection, the only one who he was able to openly show his fondness to being Yugyeom, but even that connection, was shattered by his anger.

Everyone seemed perplexed by his sudden change of perspective, especially Jaebum. Yugyeom too, seemed puzzled by it. 

“Are you really fine with it? That half-blood becoming our king when he has been your enemy before?”

“He is the only remnant of Dal now. My duty is to put him on the throne and protect him.” Bambam repeated, looking again at Yugyeom.

“But this means we will have to live alongside humans. This is not the Dal you wanted.”

“No,” Bambam admitted, “but I will see what will come of it. Someone,” he looked at Yugyeom with accusation, “kept talking so much about peace that I have to try, at least to prove him wrong.”

“What is a Mage going to do in such a world?” Yugyeom asked with amusement.

“I will be more needed than ever. There is no guarantee that humans will accept it, and even if they do, surely it won’t be all of them. Jackson has to be loved by both races for it to work, but we need harsh laws to protect our citizens, and someone strong enough to supervise them. My mission did not change, I will protect the Dal Salam at all costs.”

“Then I will do the same,” Yugyeom answered with a wide smile, “I will help you and the king try to instill peace, and if it fails, I’ll help you protect our people. Whatever fate throws our way, I am ready to face it.”

“Why do you seem so pleased?”

“Because,” Yugyeom answered laughing joyously, “it seems like we can finally stand on the same side as I’ve always wanted.”

“How can you forgive me so easily? Jaebum nearly died because of my schemes.”

“Don’t you know?” Yugyeom teased, “forgiveness and the power of self-reflection are the sorts of things my family values.”

“But I –“

“I believe you regret what you’ve done. There is no way to change what has happened, so I’m looking towards the future. What example would I give if I couldn’t forgive my dearest friend?”

Bambam swallowed nervously averting his eyes. He was happy to be called Yugyeom’s friend, but there was a sense of unfulfillment underneath it too. 

“There’s another thing I want to ask you. What about the Tuan clan? With Mark marrying him, your plans to overthrow them will be gone. Why didn’t you propose to get married to the king?”

“I will not have power handed over to me by somebody else,” Bambam said haughtily, “why didn’t _you_ want to marry him?” he added turning away from Yugyeom, the topic too difficult to keep eye contact.

For such a long time, Bambam had lived in fear that he would have to see Yugyeom being in love with someone. He was too busy for such things before but now was the time that the remaining members of the Kim clan would pressure him into finding a partner, enlarge the Kim clan and give them the next head. And Bambam could do nothing to stop it. Yugyeom deserved someone who shared his ideas about peace, someone who would raise a child with him, someone lovely and perfect. Not someone like Bambam.

“Marriage is not the way of the Dal Salam,” Yugyeom replayed and Bambam nodded with understanding and stood to leave the room, “besides, how could I be with the one who isn’t destined for me?”

Bambam stopped, feeling as if a lightning bolt struck him.

“Your destined one?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s impossible for us to be together,” Yugyeom explained and Bambam saw his regretful smile when he looked in his direction.

“Why?” he asked, his throat dry, hope blooming inside his heart. Even if he explained to himself this dream was a weed, his heart did not listen. “Why can’t you two be together?”

“He is the last of his clan. There are certain expectations placed on both of us.”

Bambam’s heart stopped.

“The Dal Salam don’t frown upon having more than one partner,” he said, just because he wished to hear Yugyeom’s answer.

“I know, but I am more selfish than others. I do not have the strong will of my mother, nor Jaebum’s flexible character. I want him to be mine and mine alone. And I want to be his and nobody else’s.”

Bambam smiled, his disbelief making it hard to breathe. He stepped closer to Yugyeom standing before him and taking his hands.

“I know the feeling.”

Yugyeom looked down at him, his expression searching.

“You are the last of the Bhuwakuls. I was sure that you would choose duty over –“

“I am the last of my line, it’s true,” Bambam interrupted him, squeezing his hands reassuringly, “and if I bond with you, it may very well mean the end of my family,” he said it with a somber smile, “my whole life I lived for my clan, trying to recover the Moonstone, gaining the power to protect people and not sullying the Bhuwakul name. And I plan to continue living in this way, but there is one area that my dead relatives have no control over. My heart chose on its own and even if you decide to reject it, there will not be anyone else for me.”

Bambam knew for a long time that he would not let another person touch him, that Yugyeom was the only one he would be able to entrust himself to. He would not sacrifice this for duty, that was too much for him. He imagined he would die alone, not good enough for Yugyeom to take him, having to listen to the Tuan clan’s urgings to find a partner for the rest of his life.

Yugyeom smiled with shock, though it looked more as if he would start crying.

“Are you serious?”

“What about you?” Bambam asked in turn, going more into Yugyeom’s space, “are you able to discard all expectations to be my Ling Yiban? Even though it will mean going against your mother’s wishes? Even if you don’t have an heir?”

Yugyeom smirked and pulled him in completely by their joined hands, caging Bambam in his arms. Bambam held his breath as their noses touched. Yugyeom’s blue-gray eyes were so beautiful from such a distance, it was a waste to close his, so he kept looking until the last moment, when he could no longer see them under their lids. He blinked when Yugyeom’s lips touched his, lightly at first, but pressing more firmly when he moved deeper into the kiss. Kissing Yugyeom was different than he imagined, his mouth opening slightly while Bambam’s stayed closed. He didn’t quite know what to do, pouting against the movements of Yugyeom’s mouth. It always seemed to him kissing must come naturally, but he never experienced it himself. He was embarrassed with his clumsy attempts, and he parted from Yugyeom, hiding his face, looking down while their foreheads touched.

Yugyeom didn’t let him escape that easily. He tipped his chin back up, and he pulled his lower lip gently with his thumb, opening his mouth and surrounding his upper lip, sucking it lightly in, then letting go and repeating the motion. Bambam’s hands tightened in the material of his shirt, his heart going into overdrive. It was hard to breathe when Yugyeom changed to his lower lip, giving it the same treatment. Bambam’s tongue was tentative when it touched Yugyeom’s lip, and he felt the other smile against his skin, moving up to open his mouth and Bambam accepted the invitation, spooked and overheated when his tongue met Yugyeom’s. He felt sensitive, his whole body itching, restlessly drawing nearer to his partner, gasping with surprise when Yugyeom’s big hand caressed the nape of his neck, changing the angle to deepen the kiss. The wet sounds alone made Bambam’s face burn, and the hand on the low of his back was not helping him calm down.

Yugyeom’s body moved towards him, guiding him to step back, never once stopping the kiss for more than a second, and Bambam fell into the throne again, his brain shutting down when Yugyeom kneeled between his legs, dragging Bambam by hips flush against his waist, and Bambam’s hand automatically went into Yugyeom’s hair to direct his face upwards as Bambam leaned down to take his lips again. He wasn’t able to open his eyes when Yugyeom disconnected them to kiss down his neck, sucking a bruise into the place where his shoulder started, Bambam biting his lip to stifle a moan. Yugyeom’s hand has moved to squeeze his thigh, fondling the flesh with maddening daringness, the hand moving up more and more, and Bambam reached down to hold it still.

“It’s not that I’m … uninterested, but the place is a little …”

Yugyeom grinned and got up, giving Bambam’s nose a ticklish kiss, but before Bambam could stand as well, Yugyeom bent down and took Bambam up into his arms, one arm under his knees, another on his back.

“Yugyeom!” Bambam protested, his hands going around the other’s neck in astonishment.

Yugyeom held him as if he weighed nothing, and more liquid heat gathered in the pit of his stomach at the underlying strength it took. He hid his face against Yugyeom’s cheek, the shame of being so easily won over catching up to him. 

“It’s been a long time since I realized there could be no one else for me either,” Yugyeom talked into his ear, making shivers run along the back of Bambam’s neck, “will you be my Ling Yiban?”

Bambam raised his head to look into Yugyeom’s blissful eyes.

“I do look very good in black.” 


	31. The Blood Moon Dance

The dance of the Blood Moon took place not in any building, but on the large plaza before the temple. The eclipse had not even started yet, but the place was already painted by the reddish light of lamps, the long tents that covered the lavishly set up tables also in deep burgundy. The Dal Salam were terribly attached to the aesthetic side of life, which made Jinyoung overtaken by this completely unknown view. The dances in Arulat were nothing compared to this.

Of course, he was sure this one was especially beautiful because it was the Mage’s bonding ceremony. Bambam didn’t believe in half-measures, Jaebum spoke very amusedly that he had Yugyeom waiting two years to organize this party exactly on the occasion of the Blood Moon because that what was his family had done in those rare occasions they found their Ling Yiban.

It didn’t seem like two years, it was passing by so quickly, and yet, so much has changed in that time. Jinyoung didn’t even feel like he was the same person from before, the root of him was the same, but what he was doing, what took up his time, it was so different. He hardly had a moment to hide away in his room and had to nourish himself with his books between meetings. One good side of that was that he was so busy most days, he just fell asleep right away, no visions of his mother, no unwanted recollections of cutting up Lanlu’s headless body to pieces.

But all of them had changed, as the whole island was changing. Mark’s plans seemed to be working, and already, they were helping a large number of people, distributing resources, funding apprenticeships for new vocations, implementing the system that protected people who couldn’t work. And the relation with the Dal Salam was changing too, after the borders were opened. There were many of those curious enough to see Dal, to learn how it was there, and after not having run into any unpleasantness, they spread the word, convincing more people that the rumors about them had been made up by the council. The Dal Salam weren’t even able to recognize, most of the time, if someone was a human or a half-blood, so they didn’t treat newcomers with hostility, as there have always been human-looking Moonbloods in their kingdom. Jinyoung was working hard on educating himself about Dal, and then educating the people, he put a large emphasis on building schools, and forcing the knowledge about the other race into people’s minds. He would not have the future generations unable to read and count, at least in the city, basic education was going to be free-of-charge and compulsory. With Mark, and Jackson, and the board that was now running things, he believed they could step into a new age that would be better than all the others.

But that took a lot of constant work that Mark had warned him about in the beginning. Jinyoung liked that he was useful, that these people valued his opinion and trusted him as one of their main administrators, and he had learned to bear the responsibility that terrified him all his life. However, he was happy that, as things started going quite smoothly recently, he might be needed a bit less, and he could finally get some time to himself.

The streets were filled with the Dal Salam, the plaza wasn’t the only place for celebration, and so it was quite hard to pass through this crowd. The person that noticed their arrival first was Bambam, while he was greeting some other guests. His intimidating bright eyes turned to them with their usual set and unreadable expression.

Bambam was the second most terrifying person Jinyoung had ever met after his own mother. It was like knowing there was a tempest trapped inside a very strict container. Jaebum’s stories about him as part of his household had only half dispelled this impression. On one hand, Bambam was apparently very involved in the cultivation of Jaebum’s half-blood children, he took to helping them discover and exercise their powers, after he had proclaimed that ‘Jaebum was spoiling them rotten.’ But on the other hand, Jaebum had also said that when Bambam and Yugyeom fought, it was like the ground was shaking, and Jaebum was half afraid they would destroy the estate. Jinyoung could easily believe that, he had often seen Bambam on both, the Dal Salam, and the human political meetings, and, with Jackson particularly, his discussions had the aggression of the actual war. He hated those moments when Mark and Yugyeom weren’t there to deal with those two, and Jinyoung had to come up with a way to somehow calm them down.

Jinyoung also didn’t consider Bambam very beautiful, although he was fitting the Dal Salam model of classical beauty. By the prince’s own standard, Jaebum was the handsomest of any Dal Salam he met, and Yugyeom was right after him. But he had to admit that Bambam in Kim’s family black robes, his jacket heavily adorned with silver ornaments, with his hair arranged, and a little bit of glitter painted onto his cheeks and reflecting the red light, looked especially stunning. Jinyoung was even more alarmed by him than normally when he approached. 

“I didn’t think you’d invite me,” was the first thing he was able to stammer. He didn’t think he wouldn’t be invited at all, just that Bambam wouldn’t do it personally.

“That’s what you get when you want to make your Ling Yiban forgive you for being responsible for his brother almost dying,” Bambam answered in his neutral voice, his eyes serious, but the expression got broken by a very subtly amused smile, “I’m just kidding. You both,” he said, looking at Youngjae who was already intently observing the food table, “are very welcome. I’m glad you postponed your departure to be here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Jinyoung answered courteously. He didn’t know how to respond when Bambam was being witty or pleasant, although the man was not as closed off or cold as he seemed.

“Besides, there is someone who would be very miserable if you weren’t here,” Bambam suggested, the corner of his mouth lifting when he turned his head to the right.

Jinyoung followed his line of sight and he felt suddenly very short of breath. The two Kim brothers were there, conversing with members of other clans. Yugyeom was dressed appropriately in Bhuwakul blue and looked very handsome, but Jinyoung hardly noticed him, focused on the older brother. He thought that he had finally gotten used to how beautiful Jaebum was, and his heart would not die a little every single time he saw him, but apparently, that was not the case. They have been seeing each other, not as often as Jinyoung would like, with him dwelling mostly in Arulat, and Jaebum being in his mansion in Dal, adding to that the workload Jinyoung had with the board, restricted their visits to at most once or twice a month. Whenever Jinyoung had the possibility, he jumped on his horse and rode off to Kim’s country villa, which was the place Jaebum mostly resided in with his children, though sometimes he was also in the main villa, that was further away. The other also came over to the palace in Arulat, and sometimes Jinyoung had him waiting all day, because of his responsibilities, but at night they would sit and talk, and Jinyoung would hold off sleep as long as he could. Jaebum wrote to him too, in Dalhyo, so that Jinyoung could learn expressions not found in the books from the Kim’s library. It was also a fact that Jaebum’s delicate beauty pushed the air out of his lungs when Jinyoung went to visit him in the country manor, several times without announcing it and catching Jaebum in the middle of teaching the cluster of his adopted, blind half-bloods to play the piano, or singing to them, or reading stories in his enchanting voice. It was almost like feeling a spring breeze graze your face, all the problems of this world taken away in an instant.

Although right now, he was reminded of the first time he saw Jaebum, when he was downright petrified by his beauty. He was clothed in a very similar style to Bambam, all in black, the jacket also adorned with silver patterns, though a little less heavily than the Mage’s. To add fuel to the fire, his hair was slicked back, exposing big, round, silver earrings, his face as pale again as it was before he came to Arulat. He didn’t look like the Jaebum Jinyoung knew as the gentlest, sweetest man he met. He looked sharp, dark, dangerous – an omen of a hurricane. Only when he turned in their direction and his lips stretched in a wide smile at seeing Jinyoung, did the illusion break.

“Jinyoung!” he called merrily, leaving the clan members to arrive in front of the prince, “you’re finally here.”

“Jaebum,” was the only word Jinyoung could say, stunned by this unknown look, not even able to reciprocate Jaebum’s smile.

Youngjae snorted beside him, turning it into a very obvious cough, Jinyoung twisting to glare at him.

“Looking good, half-blood,” Youngjae stated, clamping his mouth to keep from laughing.

“My name is still not ‘half-blood’, Youngjae.”

Jaebum wanted to say more but he stumbled back when a figure, hidden under a brown hood, collided with him, their hands going around Jaebum’s neck in an embrace. Jinyoung pulled the person back, irritated, the hood falling down to reveal Jackson’s self-satisfied face.

“I told you not to make a scene,” Jinyoung snapped at the king, “and you’re married, don’t just cling to people publicly.”

Jinyoung, as a royal advisor and the heir to Arulat’s throne, had the duty and the justification to supervise Jackson’s behaviour. He planned to exercise that right fully.

“I’m married in Arulat. Here, I can have as many lovers as I want,” Jackson answered with a wink in Jaebum’s direction, “it is even encouraged to strengthen clan friendships. But how would a human like you understand?” Jackson said with a theatrical sigh.

Jinyoung’s annoyance was reaching new heights. He learned faster than Jackson did, knew more about Dal Salam traditions, and spoke Dalhyo better than the king, and he still had the audacity to accuse Jinyoung of not understanding Jaebum’s culture.

“You’re still expected to keep decorum,” Bambam spoke up, “but I am very happy you graced my ceremony with your presence, your majesty.”

Apparently, Bambam had a very strong resolution to be gracious to everybody today. Jinyoung had never heard the Mage call the king by ‘majesty’ since the time of presenting himself as his subject before the humans.

“How could I miss my cousin’s bonding ceremony?” Jackson answered with a friendly smile.

Jackson and Bambam were only very distantly related, but the Mage was also the kin of the Tuan clan, so he guessed it made Jackson his family by marriage, somewhat. And Bambam would become a part of the Kim clan today, so it just made all those noble lines more complicated.

“You look gorgeous,” Jackson told Bambam, “and the place is amazing too, I wouldn’t miss it. You really are the best at throwing parties.”

“Thank you,” Bambam answered with a touch of skepticism.

“And you, Jaebum,” Jackson turned to him, “I expected a warmer welcome from you, we haven’t seen each other for weeks. And we used to be so close,” Jackson intoned wistfully.

“Your relations must have cooled off when you stabbed him,” Youngjae said, prompting Yugyeom, who approached them along with Mark, to erupt with his weird, old-woman-like laughter.

“I also saved his life,” Jackson raised his voice to be audible over the cackling, “you all seem to be forgetting that part,” he declared, insulted.

“I did not forget,” Jaebum said, his hand going to touch the black stone that was attached to his clothes as a brooch, “forgive me if I seemed cold, I don’t want to upset Mark.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Mark said, his arm going around Jaebum’s shoulders, “in fact-“ he started with a wicked smile, leaning closer to whisper something into Jaebum’s ear, who opened his eyes wider and looked at Jinyoung with embarrassment, to then avert his eyes.

Jinyoung was ninety percent sure that Mark was suggesting something perverse that included the three or four of them. While out of all the Dal Salam he knew, he liked Mark the best after Jaebum, spending a lot of the time with the brilliant man, he has also learned that Mark was in a possession of filthy humor that surpassed even Jackson’s. Most people didn’t realize it because they judged him as quiet. Most of them never recognized that he was not what he seemed. Not all of them saw that Mark was the kind of person that would be able to conquer Liao, and they would thank him for it.

“How are things going on your side, Mark?” Jaebum threw out vexed, turning the attention away from himself, “how’s married life treating you? I bet it’s –“

“Careful, Jaebum,” Mark answered in the same, vicious tone, “you should really deal with that betting problem. You already own me the estate.”

Jinyoung didn’t quite understand the friendship between those two. As far as he knew, Jaebum had not had many friends among the young lord and ladies of the noble clans, but Mark seemed to have been one. Their personalities were completely different and, while Jaebum was rarely mean to anyone, he could throw various comments in Mark’s direction. Jinyoung couldn’t imagine Jaebum alluding to anyone else’s marriage activities. While Mark had promised, in the beginning, not to lay his hand on Jackson if he didn’t expressly allow it, it was clear to everyone in the palace that they were sleeping with each other.

“You lost our house?” Yugyeom exclaimed in a shrill voice that had Jaebum’s shoulders twitching protectively up.

“No,” he answered, “well, yes, but I will get it back. Mark won’t really take the house from us, he’s not like that.”

“I might exchange it for a favor,” Mark suggested devilishly. Jinyoung knew he wasn’t joking because he already owned Mark favors, that the other used when he needed something.

The tension between them was rising, which, honestly, was unavoidable when all seven of them were in one place. Bambam, thankfully, suggested that the king and his husband should go and greet the other clan leaders and dragged Yugyeom away too, leaving Jinyoung, Youngjae, and Jaebum alone.

“They’re all finally gone,” Youngjae stated exhaling, “alright, I’m going to the food. Have fun, Jinyoung, half-blood,” he nodded his head and rushed to the table.

Jaebum turned his full attention to him now, and it was a torturous satisfaction. He always wanted Jaebum to look only at him, but at the same time, the other’s presence was more intense than anybody else’s.

“When is your ship leaving?” Jaebum asked warmly.

“In a week.”

“I’m sure you will have a great time. Remember to bring back things other than books.”

‘Come with me’ Jinyoung thought frantically but didn’t voice out, ‘please, we can escape together, leave the island for good, see all the world has to offer,’ but he knew Jaebum would not leave his children. He seemed happy with what he was doing, with his way of life. Jinyoung didn’t want to drag him away from that, if it made Jaebum feel fulfilled.

“How are the children?” Jinyoung asked instead, forcing his voice to be level.

“Oh, they love to complain. When we’re in the city, they want to go to the country, when we’re there, suddenly it’s ‘too quiet.’ Haneul managed to freeze a lake recently. I think Bambam is trying to nurture her into the next head of the Kim clan,” Jaebum narrated enthusiastically.

The next head of the Kim clan would probably be Jaebum’s child, but it should be a child that had his blood. Mark had, not so discreetly, suggested to Jinyoung that now Yugyeom was out of the question, many families turned their heads to his brother. Blowing up the Moonstone had worked, the climate was already getting milder, and new Dal Salam were being born. Jaebum, while a half-blood, was still more powerful than most commoners, he carried the magic of the Kim clan in his veins.

“I will bring them presents back,” Jinyoung said.

He took the time, when he visited, to get to know the cluster, even though it cut his precious time alone with Jaebum. But Jaebum loved them, and so Jinyoung was decided to make them like him, know all their names, learn what they enjoyed. They were quite self-sufficient in their plays, so he was able to steal Jaebum away, hide in his library. Jaebum too, knew places were they could be undisturbed, while the children were supervised by his employees. When they were in the countryside, if the night sky was bright enough for Jinyoung, they would go to sit in the tree over the lake. Sometimes, Jaebum told Jinyoung to get some sleep at night, and then he spent the whole day with him, overgoing sleep himself, the empty landscape belonging only to them. In the city, Jaebum showed him the streets, the port, any place he knew, accompanying their walks with his stories.

They had talked about their past, about their thoughts, personally, or in letters. If Jinyoung could, he would share his whole mind with Jaebum, but there were things there the other might not want to know. Especially about him.

“Jinyoung, there’s thirty of them. You really don’t have to –“

“I want to,” he interrupted, “what’s the use of being a prince if I can’t even buy a few presents?”

“Be careful or Bambam will accuse you of spoiling them too.”

Jinyoung chuckled. He couldn’t imagine being lectured by the Mage.

“And what should I bring back for you?” he asked and he expected Jaebum to say he didn’t need anything. He definitely didn’t predict he would say what he did.

“Yourself,” Jaebum answered, just to immediately remember himself and laugh embarrassedly, “I mean, I wish that you will come back safely.”

Jaebum was endearing when his eyes become narrow like this and he laughed shyly, his teeth showing from beneath his pink lips. Jinyoung was weak against that, as he was against anything Jaebum did, really. But not everything made him grab Jaebum’s wrist causing the other to startle.

“Jaebum,” he looked into those black eyes, swallowing, “as long as you’re here I will always return.”

Jaebum glanced away from him, in a very calculated move that placed his eyes immediately on the tables.

“I think Youngjae’s calling for us,” Jaebum said, as if Youngjae would ever willingly look away from food.

Jinyoung had no choice but to follow as Jaebum pulled him by the hand on his wrist. Jaebum always did this, whenever Jinyoung thought that there was a chance to break through his barriers, he withdrew. And Jinyoung did often feel Jaebum treated him differently than others, more than just a friend, but at the same time, he didn’t let them become anything more. Jinyoung was glad just of his company, of getting to know him, see, and hear him, but even after two years, he couldn’t stop the longing that he felt for the other. He didn’t exactly hide it from Jaebum, but he mostly tried not to make the other uncomfortable. 

Youngjae was dumping food into his mouth in large quantities. One would have thought they didn’t feed him at the palace.

“Do our delicacies please you, Lord Choi?” Jaebum asked, in the most teasing voice he could manage.

Youngjae sputtered.

“Oh, shut up. I told Jackson, explicitly, that I did not want a title,” he complained, “it’s probably the only reason he gave me one.”

Jaebum laughed at Youngjae’s terrible misfortune.

“I won’t call you a lord if you stop calling me ‘half-blood’.”

“How else would I call you?” Youngjae retorted, but Jinyoung stopped listening to their squabble because the music started playing, and he turned to observe the quartet and the middle of the plaza being cleared to allow for dancing.

He noticed the Mage’s approach first, and he pulled on Jaebum’s sleeve to discreetly get his attention.

“Dance with me,” Bambam said, extending his hand to Jaebum.

Jaebum hesitated only for a second. Because Bambam was all about antiquated traditions, choosing him for the first dance, before his Ling Yiban, before the king, was him honoring Jaebum as his new brother.

Jaebum and Bambam created a beautiful contrast together, one with his raven hair, the other stark white. They were both very dignified in their movements, Jinyoung couldn’t quite look away. He wasn’t sure when exactly the king arrived by his side. 

“Isn’t he extraordinary?” Jackson said with a gentle air, his eyes following Jaebum, “he really makes one believe that forgiveness and teamwork can solve all of the world’s problems. At least, for a while.”

“I haven’t forgiven you for murdering my father. I’m just waiting till you stop being useful,” Jinyoung answered, not sparing the king a second glance. Threatening each other had become common for them.

“And I was planning to be nice to you today,” Jackson stated when the music ended and didn’t explain further, going over to Jaebum and Bambam.

Jinyoung understood when he saw the king extend his hand to Jaebum, a new music piece starting, Yugyeom taking Bambam away for the dance. He had to watch Jaebum agree amiably.


	32. Which way to go

“Why do you even use lights, if you can see in the dark?” Jackson asked, spinning him around in a way that was definitely not devised for this dance, “is it for the humans who are here? I mean, I can see in the dark about as well as Jinyoung, is it for my sake?”

“No, we always use lights,” Jaebum answered, holding Jackson still before he could invent other dance moves, “I guess it’s to add color? Darkness is terribly monochrome. And we still see better when there is some light.”

Being with Jackson was easy now that Jaebum didn’t live with the awareness that he would have to betray him. Jackson understood him, and it felt comfortable. His company certainly didn’t leave Jaebum in the state of turmoil Jinyoung’s presence did.

“When are you going to visit me? The children miss you so much.”

“I was busy recently,” Jackson sighed, “we’re all busy. And now Jinyoung’s going away, so we will have one less person to direct things.”

“Jinyoung told me things are going pretty well.”

“Oh, they are. Mark’s planned it out perfectly, we can deal without Jinyoung for a bit. He needs a breath of fresh air too, I guess.”

“What about you?” Jaebum asked, worriedly, “isn’t it all too much? How are things going with Mark? You hardly knew him when you married him. Are you happy?”

“You know me, Jaebum. I’m happy as long as I feel I’m helping,” Jackson smiled cheerfully, “and when it comes to Mark, I’ve grown rather fond of him. He’s a great support, although he’s too smart sometimes, and they team up with Jinyoung against me, but he always listens to my opinions. And he understands he doesn’t own me, we both give each other free reign.”

“I’m satisfied then,” he answered, looking into Jackson’s liquid, brown eyes, “I was afraid we were all forcing you into this. Shaping you into a king, uncaring what you felt. And pushing you into a relationship with someone you didn’t love.”

“Love is for romantics like Jinyoung and your brother,” Jackson smirked, “anyway, Mark’s fun. I’ve been slowly pitching to him the idea to bring back the party king Suiren organized. You’d be a guest of honor too.”

That one wasn’t exactly a party. An orgy would be a more suitable word.

“So many things to learn and that’s what you remember? The overindulgences of the Wang family?” Jaebum answered with a laugh, “ _you should focus more on improving Dalhyo, your majesty._ Jinyoung already knows it better and he’s a human.”

“Don’t compare me to Jinyoung, he’s a book-eater. And I don’t receive a ton of letters from my beau.”

Jaebum preferred not to answer that.

“I do sometimes wish I had your life,” Jackson sidetracked, “and there are times I wish you were by my side.”

“Jackson…”

“There is no one more important to me than you, Jaebum. All of this happened because of you.”

“A lot of bad things happened because of me.”

“What?” Jackson snorted, “uniting the two nations and bringing peace?”

“That wasn’t my doing. It’s thanks to you, and Mark, Yugyeom, Jinyoung,” his voice softened unwittingly on the prince’s name.

“Without you, no one would be able to change their perspective. And really, your biggest accomplishment was forcing Jinyoung out of his room to do some actual work.” Jackson snickered, “You and I, we are the points were the Dal Salam and humans meet. You made me believe that the things I dreamed of doing were still possible.”

Jaebum smiled. “I believe you will be the best king that this island ever had. You have the spirit of Dal.”

Jackson raised his hand to his cheek, touching him lightly, “Jaebum, you are one of a kind. You have the power to manipulate people, and you use it to soothe their souls. The children are so joyous with you, you let them see the world in their dreams, give them the love they never had. Jinyoung too is no longer afraid to carry a sword, his hand is sure now. How is it that you don’t see how much of this all is your doing? You healed me.”

“It’s you who saved me,” Jaebum said, his voice faltering with feeling.

“I only healed your body,” Jackson said, his hand going down to the stone attached to Jaebum’s shirt, “you brought me back hope. When I look at you I want to steal you away. But I am kind of afraid of your brother,” Jackson said, dispelling the plaintive atmosphere for a moment, “and I will not chain you with me to the responsibility. I am happy, and this is my purpose, but freedom is not a part of it. One of us should taste it. I did not bring you back to life just so you would be afraid to live it fully.”

Jaebum opened his lips uselessly. He didn’t know how to answer Jackson’s affection, nor his correct accusations that Jaebum was afraid.

“Don’t look like you feel sorry for me. You are more than a lover, more than family, I don’t quite know what to call this thing between us, but I don’t need you to be with me to draw strength from it,” Jackson grinned, “whatever it is, it makes me wish to see you grow, and I think that for it to happen, you should share Jinyoung’s path. So why haven’t you said that you want to go with him?”

Jaebum squeezed his jaw tighter, unwilling to go into that topic.

“Eh, and I’m always the one losing,” Jackson started teasingly, “first you, and now Mark. You must know, don’t you? You and Mark seem to have a lot of tension these days. Mark just adores Jinyoung. I see them all the time, talking about this and that book, leaning towards each other with excitement. I am afraid how much longer poor Jinyoungie can prevail, and if Mark won’t use the occasion to comfort him when Jinyoung’s patience runs out.”

Jaebum’s hand squeezed Jackson’s painfully without meaning to, and his nails would have left marks if Jackson’s power didn’t react with a flash of green in his eyes.

“It’s been two years, Jaebum,” Jackson’s voice turned serious, “I can’t even imagine how many doubts Jinyoung must have. I won’t blame him if he gives up. Why don’t you just tell him what you feel?”

“What I feel,” Jaebum threw out, “is no business of anyone but me.” 

They all just loved to talk about it, to step into the privacy of his head. Was he really so easy to see through? Couldn’t they just keep their observations to themselves?

“Oh, I like when you get angry and became a tiger,” Jackson mocked, “but,” he said, his hand suddenly holding him closer by the waist, “let’s turn you into a kitten again.”

Jaebum was spun away from him, stumbling into another person. Jinyoung held him tightly to stabilize him. Of course, who else.

Jaebum turned his head to glare at Jackson, who mouthed a ‘you’re welcome’ and ignored him to cling to Mark.

“What did he say to make you look so indignant?” Jinyoung asked with a chuckle, one of his hands letting go of Jaebum to return posed on the small of his back, the other travelling down his arm to grasp their hands together.

“Nothing,” Jaebum answered, putting his free hand on Jinyoung’s shoulder, “he’s just jesting.”

“Sounds like him.”

Jaebum had to level his expression when he glanced into Jinyoung’s honest, cheerful eyes. He looked like a prince, well, he was one, but it was like a prince out of some storybook left the book to stand there before him, with a gentle smile and a steady grip, as he moved Jaebum forward to the sound of the music. Jaebum tried to calm his mind and body with repeating in his mind: ‘don’t sweat, don’t blush, don’t tremble, don’t let this tender heart jump out of your chest.’ He wasn’t entirely sure it worked.

They danced in silence for a moment, which was even worse than if Jinyoung talked with him because it made the contact of their bodies terribly intimate. Dancing seemed so innocent, but it forced them into the same space, made them synchronize their movements, and communicate in ways other than words. And he was afraid that his body was saying what his mouth couldn’t.

“You know this dance?” Jaebum asked to dispel this intent atmosphere.

It was a Dal Salam dance, he didn’t think humans had exactly one like it. But Jinyoung was making all the appropriate moves, turned and disconnected him in the right moments, with the confidence of one who practiced.

“Mark taught me,” Jinyoung answered and Jaebum’s heart fell, “am I doing well?”

“Well enough,” he said through a constricted throat, “but you should be closer to me.”

It wasn’t true. Jinyoung was keeping the exact distance he should, but that didn’t stop Jaebum from moving Jinyoung’s hand up to between his shoulder blades, bringing them closer, making their bodies tauter.

It wasn’t fair of him to do this, but nothing he did was exactly virtuous. He had no claim over Jinyoung, the prince had every right to be interested in whoever he wanted. But did it really have to be Mark? Couldn’t it be someone less smart, less fitting for Jinyoung? Preferably, someone that Jaebum didn’t know and would never have an occasion to meet.

“This melody is lovely,” Jinyoung said lowly when a new piece started, his hand twitching on Jaebum’s back a little.

“I’m glad you think so,” Jaebum answered, the words calming his thoughts a bit, “it’s my present for Bambam and Yugyeom.”

“You composed it?”

“This one and a couple more.”

“Is there any art form that you’re not good at?”

“My poems are so-so. And I’m a terrible sculptor, don’t tell anyone.”

Jinyoung laughed, bringing Jaebum’s attention to his full lips, but he forced his gaze back up. Though Jinyoung’s eyes were not any less of a heart-throbbing view.

“This song,” Jinyoung said, his expression pensive, “it feels like falling in love.”

Of course it did. Any song that he created thinking about Jinyoung would feel that way.

“It’s appropriate for the occasion then,” he answered, thinking about his brother.

“This moment in the beginning,” Jinyoung hummed, “it feels like interest, getting slowly more overwhelming,” he hummed again, “and it changes into a quickening heartbeat, into the excitement of being on someone’s side. And it grows and grows and then stops. Why does it turn so sorrowful when it stars again?”

“I don’t know,” Jaebum looked away.

“Anyway, it encompassed the feeling very well. You really are a prodigy.”

“Don’t say that,” Jaebum answered nervously, “I’ll be embarrassed.”

“You will look very fetching then,” Jinyoung answered, and Jaebum cast his eyes down.

Where did Jinyoung even get ideas to say things that threw him so off-balance?

Because Jaebum paid absolutely no attention to what was going on around them, he didn’t realize it was the time to turn off the lights. Darkness enveloped them suddenly and Jinyoung’s hands gripped him tighter in surprise.

“What’s happening?”

“We turn off the lights to see the Blood Moon better,” Jaebum answered.

“I can’t see a thing.”

“It will show itself in a moment.”

Jaebum himself could see, not incredibly well, but enough to know the expression on Jinyoung’s face, to see his unfocused eyes.

“Stay close to me,” he told the prince, stepping completely into his space, and Jinyoung’s hand moved slowly up, touching the back of his neck, the ends of his hair. Their hands that were holding each other were bent, rested between their chests. Jaebum was afraid Jinyoung would be able to feel his heartbeat from so close, as he must have heard his less-than-calm breathing, the nervous swallow, things that the prince mirrored, as he bit his lip in the darkness, Jaebum free to watch it now that Jinyoung wouldn’t know.

But he closed his eyes. He wanted to feel what Jinyoung did at this moment, deprived of one sense, and he leaned his head, posed it softly against Jinyoung’s forehead the way the prince once did. He felt only the warmth of Jinyoung’s touch, heard his breath, smelled the night air and Jinyoung’s skin. He forgot there was anything else.

He was a cruel being, he had a cruel heart, to hold Jinyoung so close and never let him in closer. And Jinyoung didn’t realize it, didn’t get furious at him. Maybe if Jinyoung just lost his temper, maybe if Jaebum was left with no choice, he could submit easily. Maybe then he could end this torture he applied on them both. But he feared this so much, in ways he didn’t even fear death. Jinyoung was too much, he was meddling with Jaebum’s head, and leaving it in a state of complete mayhem.

All his relationships had been easy-going, pleasurable. They didn’t hurt like this, they didn’t feel like he had only one chance at them. Jinyoung was like the best notebook Jaebum could never draw in, the paint he never dared to use because it was too pretty. He could draw on spare papers because he could throw them away if something went wrong, but in those best ones, everything had to look perfect. And he never felt like he was able to do it well enough, so they just remained empty. He couldn’t fail at something he didn’t start.

“Jaebum,” the prince whispered, the breath he exhaled cooling the moisture that collected on Jaebum’s lips after he had been nervously pulling on them with his teeth, “the Moon’s here.”

Jaebum opened his eyes slowly, gradually, the closeness of Jinyoung’s skin making him a bit cross-eyed, so he drew back. Jinyoung wasn’t looking at the moon, that must have been behind Jaebum, but at him, at his mouth and up into his eyes, and Jaebum was frozen in place.

There was no reason to look at the Moon. He had seen it before, but he had never seen Jinyoung in its crimson light, that seemed more important.

Jinyoung was so near to him. If he leaned in, if he took his lips, Jaebum wouldn’t be able to refuse him, he wouldn’t be able to deny Jinyoung anything he required.

The Blood Moon was believed to inspire couples with intensified desire. After Jaebum had turned fifteen and was allowed to attend it, this was the moment he would sneak away with someone, as many other Dal Salam. He couldn’t say if this was true, he already had enough desire for Jinyoung as it was, his skin burning at the other’s touch, his pulse quickened with expectancy. 

Jinyoung did not kiss him. He looked as if he would, Jaebum was prepared that he was going to do it, but he had not tried to since the desert, even though there were those moments of heightened tension between them in which Jaebum thought it must happen or else they would explode with this static.

Instead, Jinyoung looked at something behind him and Jaebum turned his head to covetously observe what took away his attention. It turned out to be his brother and Bambam. Human weddings had vows and such things, but in the case of bonding, any promises made were kept between the two. The guests were here to join the couple in their celebration, but they were not part of this.

Wearing each other’s clan colors wasn’t restricted to Ling Yibans, it was a sign of accepting your partner into your household, whether he was an exclusive one or not. Jackson and Mark had done it too, upon their acceptance into each other’s clan, Mark donning green for that day, while Jackson had a golden attire.

The only public custom always performed on this ceremony was to bind the couple’s hands together with a white thread, and Jackson was assigned with this task, as in old times the Wang family had done for noble clans. It was only symbolic, it carried no official repercussions. The Dal Salam considered the thread as an invisible shackle, it was not to be broken, even when your destined died, it still bound you together. Even though it was not institutionalized in any way, no self-respecting Dal Salam would ever try to proposition a person that had a Ling Yiban, whether their partner was alive or not, because it was like tempting fate. No one would go through this with ambiguous feelings, it was sometimes even considered a shame, that destiny restricted the pair so much, and there were even tales of how parents tried to deter their children from doing it, which was also said to bring horrible luck if done. The thread would later be cut in two and bound around each partner’s wrist, also as a warning for other people not to get too close. 

Jaebum looked back at the prince and his ribs seemed to break, to run through his heart. There was so much craving on Jinyoung’s face, so much envy. This was what he wanted, and Jaebum squeezed his hand to make him look back.

“Let’s sit down,” he said, dropping his head, almost resting it on Jinyoung’s shoulder.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m tired,” he answered, lying through his teeth.

He knew Jinyoung would react immediately, guiding him to the tables with a hand on his back. He was given a wine glass by Mark and he drunk eagerly, hoping the wine will make it easier to relax and focus on how happy his brother was. He joined Youngjae in tasting everything, inquiring from Jinyoung and Jackson how the negotiations with the Yama tribe were going. They had apparently stopped requesting Jinyoung’s, Youngjae’s, and his head at every occasion, that was something. 

Bonding ceremonies were quite rare, and Jaebum had only been on one before when he was a child. But the traditions were known, though not always kept. Bambam wouldn’t overgo any of the rites, even though this one was invented by the common folk and was often overlooked. The Tuan family had a lot of fun with this one, Mark suggested that they should do it, even just to annoy the Mage. After the bonding, the guests were supposed to do everything to separate the pair, by force or deception, no holds barred. Once they succeeded, they had the right to ask the captured side for any object of theirs, or a sum of money, and how much the person was willing to give away to be able to get back to their beloved, was to prove that there was nothing material that could be more important. Of course, it was usually more symbolic, and the guests asked for things like a piece of jewellery, or small sums, but Bambam’s cousins had no mercy and they teamed up to outplay him. The Mage already owed Mark his white horse, his older brother an old diadem of emeralds, Jackson a kiss, that was probably the hardest thing to obtain, but as Jackson didn’t specify, he received a kiss on the cheek. Jaebum wasn’t about to try Bambam’s patience, but his brother was fair game as well. He and Jinyoung managed to draw Yugyeom away with the news that Jaebum was feeling very sick, while Bambam was trying to free himself from the clutches of the Tuan family. Yugyeom humorously promised them the country house, although it half belonged to Jaebum already. But Jinyoung agreed to the condition and Yugyeom joked that not only did he lose the estate because of Jaebum’s betting, now his other property was gone as well, and that, thankfully, Bambam didn’t promise the Bhuwakul estate to anyone yet, or they would end up homeless. 

It was much later, almost at dawn, when his brother sat next to him by the table. Jaebum had a good number of wine glasses in himself by then, and Jinyoung was already sleeping on Youngjae’s shoulder, the man still somehow eating. Jaebum could eat a lot, but Youngjae had not left this table for more than half an hour for the whole night.

“Bambam says it’s time to go home. Are you going with us?”

“I have to collect those two,” Jaebum replied, observing Jinyoung startle up, only to return to Youngjae’s shoulder a moment later.

“Don’t worry, half-blood,” Youngjae answered, waking Jinyoung up, and prompting him to stand up, “we’re going to sleep at the palace, we will be leaving along with Jackson in the evening anyway.”

After Jaebum promised a drowsy Jinyoung he would come by to see them off when he got some sleep, they were gone. The palace was only a few steps away from the temple, the Kim estate a bit further.

“So when is your sweetheart moving into the country house?” Yugyeom teased.

“He’s not any such thing,” Jaebum denied. Yugyeom knew he didn’t like to talk about it, and he was utilizing the occasion of him being drunk to make him confess.

“And for the life of me, I can’t understand why. It’s clear you two fancy each other. You were never like this before, Jaebum, why so hesitant? Don’t tell me you still believe your power had made him like this?”

It was Youngjae who told Yugyeom about that, not caring about Jaebum’s humiliation.

“It’s not that,” Jaebum rebutted, “it’s just, Jinyoung is a human prince and the heir to the throne. He has many duties, obligations. He can’t be here with me.”

“Jaebum, he and Jackson are the same age. Jinyoung’s chance to ever sit on the throne is small, he knew this when he agreed to it. His four-year-old cousin has a bigger possibility to outlive Jackson and become the king,” Yugyeom answered in a lecturing tone, “and despite his duties, he finds time to meet with you. And you want to be with him, I saw your letters, the ones you did not send.”

“Those letters were private!”

“Then don’t leave them in public spaces. Not everyone in the house is blind.”

Jaebum hung his head and shoulders. He was enfeebled in this state, it was hard to keep his mouth shut.

“I cannot be like you and Bambam. And Jinyoung deserves this, the stability of such love.”

“What’s with this human-like attitude, Jaebum? Didn’t our mother teach you that every love is important?”

“It’s easy for you to say. You have your destined one.”

“Jaebum,” Yugyeom said with a sigh, “you can have one too if you want.”

“No,” Jaebum answered regrettably, “I do not know myself or the future well enough to promise anyone my whole life. I am full of caprices and uncertainty. My eyes follow pretty faces, and I can’t speak well about my feelings. This scares me too much, trying to be the one for Jinyoung and failing.”

“Jaebum, don’t reject the wisdom that our way of life has just because I chose another path. Whether the relationship survives or not does not diminish its significance. I’m sure Jinyoung knows you well enough and loves you the way you are. And I didn’t see you trying to find anyone else in those two years. You’re worrying too much and letting a chance slip by.”

“You don’t understand. You have the certainty that Bambam will be with you, always.”

“How?” Yugyeom laughed.

“Because you’re destined –“

“Jaebum, it’s a fairytale,” Yugyeom answered, “Ling Yibans, marriage, it’s all the same. We believe it because we want to.”

“What?”

“I don’t love Bambam because he’s destined for me. I believe he’s destined for me because I love him.”

Jaebum furrowed his brows.

“I used to romanticize the idea of destiny binding two people together before. But this love, it is not so different from any other love, it is not dissimilar from the promises humans make to each other, or from the way our parents have been. It needs nurturing like all of them. I am decided to be by his side, no matter what. This destiny is made by the two of us.”

“Even then,” Jaebum answered, “Jinyoung lives in Arulat, and I live in Dal.”

“So?” Yugyeom laughed, “it’s not like it’s a separate continent. You don’t live on the Moon, Jaebum.” 

“He will go to a different continent soon. He will see new places, meet new people. He might forget about me –“

“While I find it highly unlikely for Jinyoung to forget you easily,” Yugyeom rebutted, “if you’re so worried, why don’t you just go with him?”

“You know I can’t, the children are here, I have responsibilities …”

“The children will be fine under my and Bambam’s care for a few months.”

“I took them in, this is my duty.”

“I am the head of the Kim clan. I allowed you to take them into our clan, they are my family as well” Yugyeom told him, “besides, the dogs I’ve been collecting are to be taken to the estate. It will take a lot of time to train them to be the children’s eyes, my power can only ease the process. Do you really think they will even notice you’re gone when they’re surrounded by puppies?”

“But –“

“Don’t become too responsible suddenly, Jaebum. It’s not like you.”

“Is that a complaint?”

“It’s a show of brotherly love,” Yugyeom said, elbowing his side painfully, “I don’t want you to change. You should do what you want and not look for excuses.”

“I can’t,” Jaebum responded, hiding his face in his hands, “this terrifies me.”

Even with the pain, it was easier to escape from it. This longing fed his melancholic spirit, a simple way for him to exist. He got used to the thought he could want Jinyoung, but couldn’t have him.

“I know this scares you,” Yugyeom answered, “it is frightening to entrust your heart to someone. And if you really want to hide away from it, I won’t stop you. But Jinyoung will not always be waiting for you to take that chance. You need some bravery, Jaebum.”

Where could such a thing be obtained?


	33. Things better shared

Jinyoung had to get himself together. He was embarking on a journey, exciting new prospects before him, a new country to see. Theoretically, he was just supposed to observe how their trade was going, see where it could be improved, obtain new contacts, and the like. But he longed to experience another place, another culture, and, most of all, he just couldn’t wait to get his hands on all the books they didn’t have on the island, reach for new knowledge, understand more about the world. He should be overjoyed.

The fresh morning air should give him strength. The port was full of commotion already at this hour, seagulls shouting loudly overhead, people down on the market selling fish and other seafood, their ship being loaded, the sea humming in the wind. He was not just a prince now, he would be a traveler, an adventurer, all the books about pirates and sailors going through his mind. He had a chance to live through this for real, and while it made him nervous, no longer being just in his imagination, it thrilled him too. The Jinyoung from the past would be terrified of this, but after surviving the desert and rebuilding the country, he felt this would be more of a vacation.

He just couldn’t get the impression of deficiency out of the back of his mind. It was just a few months, it wasn’t like he was going away for good, or that he wouldn’t see Jaebum again. But the awareness that he would be away from him, that he couldn’t just get on his horse and ride to his house when the desire to see Jaebum became too great, upset him. How very unadventurous of him, to be so needy. Didn’t great explorers leave their darlings when they went away? Jaebum was not to be called his exactly, but he was his home, to him Jinyoung would be striving to return.

Jinyoung wished he went with them. He wanted to share this new sensation with Jaebum, wanted to share everything with him. He was preparing his mind to take in everything and remember it, every new impression and sight, so that he could tell it all to Jaebum when he returned. He had to be positive about this. It would be marvelous, he couldn’t let his yearning for Jaebum blind him to all the things that could be learned, for Jaebum’s sake too.

“Why didn’t you just invite the half-blood to come with us, if you’re going to be moody all the time?” Youngjae spoke up, joining Jinyoung on the bow of the deck.

“He has duties, he wouldn’t leave his children.”

“But did you ask?”

Jinyoung would like to say that he didn’t do it because he didn’t want to put Jaebum on the spot. He would like to think he wasn’t a coward that was afraid of another rejection, but he was also not that good of a liar.

“You two are terrible,” Youngjae accused, “do you even know how hard it is to watch you? My nerves are in tatters.”

“ _Your_ nerves?”

“Observing you two knuckleheads be very obviously in love and do absolutely nothing about it is making me want to jump out of the closest window most of the time.”

“It’s not like I did nothing,” Jinyoung answered with annoyance, “I tried. He knows what I feel. What else can I do?”

“Try harder?” Youngjae suggested, “you’re not going to get half-blood out of his dilly-dally approach if you step away all the time.”

“We have fleeted past each other for two years. He doesn’t want me in this way.”

“I do,” the familiar voice expressed behind them, “I want you in every way.”

Jinyoung sighed without turning around. He wasn’t going to be shaken by this. He wasn’t going to cry, or jump into Jaebum’s arms, or let his heart jump out of his chest, or even give Jaebum the satisfaction of rotating with an astonished expression. He was going to contain himself.

“Did you have to be dramatic? Couldn’t you have told me you were coming a week ago?”

“Yes, half-blood, couldn’t you have spared me his depressing company? And I thought we were friends,” Youngjae added, smiling under his nose.

“You want a person that was revived in the last possible moment not to be dramatic? Besides, I was afraid that if I backed out, it would hurt you more than deciding not to come at all. We all know I’m kind of a coward.”

“Well, thank god you finally decided,” Youngjae exhaled, “I was half-planning to drag you here.”

Jinyoung twisted to stare at his friend.

“Can’t you go somewhere? Check on the ropes, go talk to the captain?”

“Are you kidding?” Youngjae exclaimed, “I’ve been waiting two years for this.”

Jinyoung sighed and sent Youngjae another meaningful look.

“Fine, I’m going,” he said, walking out of Jinyoung’s line of sight, “don’t mess this up, half-blood. I will ask the Captain if he can hasten leaving the harbour. Don’t let half-blood escape, Jinyoung.”

“I can’t escape, Bambam told me he won’t let me in if I back out,” Jaebum called after him, but Youngjae was already gone with the sound of doors closing.

Jinyoung turned around and was predictably hit by the marvelous sight of Jaebum’s hair flowing in the wind, the loose white shirt, and the gentle smile making him seem as brisk as daybreak. How has Jinyoung still not gotten used to that? If he didn’t cure this weakness in the next couple of years he was at serious risk of going mad.

“What made you decide to come in the end?”

“Fear,” Jaebum said looking into his eyes, “I’m afraid of you leaving me behind. I realized that there will come a time when you get tired of waiting for me to make up my mind.”

“I wasn’t quite on the verge of giving up yet,” Jinyoung answered, studying every step Jaebum took in his direction, “You’re not that easy to give up.”

“I’m also tired of my own hesitancy,” Jaebum said, leaning his elbows on the balustrade, “I know this is what I want, it’s just hard for me to take this step.”

“What about the children? I thought you wouldn’t be able to leave them.”

“They’re in my brother’s and Bambam’s care. I already have a list of all the things they want me to bring back.”

Jinyoung rested on the balustrade as well and bowed all the way over to pose his forehead against it.

“Jinyoung? Are you alright?”

“No?” he answered, his voice wavering, “I was hoping against myself you would magically arrive here, and now you’re here I don’t even know what to do.”

Jaebum scooted closer to him, their arms against each other.

“Because this has been taking away my sleep for a week,” he said, “I arrived at the genius conclusion that we have to stop worrying and start enjoying ourselves.”

“Two years, and that’s what you come up with?” Jinyoung raised a bit and automatically moved his head back an ounce because Jaebum was right before him.

“We both tend to overthink,” Jaebum answered, pulling on his lip anxiously, “I’m even worse than you, I know. But if you can be brave enough to leave the safety of your room and do what you want, I can do it too.”

“Brilliant in its simplicity,” Jinyoung retorted, looking around them. It looked like they were ready to ship out.

Jaebum used his distraction to bend closer to his ear.

“I’m taking down the kissing restriction too,” Jaebum murmured with a wickedly pleasant voice as if he was divulging a secret.

“How thoughtful of you,” Jinyoung answered, his throat tightening.

“Aren’t you going to kiss me?” Jaebum suggested sweetly, moving back from his ear.

“The last time we kissed, you wanted me to kill you,” Jinyoung reminded him, “I’m kind of afraid what would happen now.”

“My recollection of that time is muddled at best,” Jaebum answered, biting on his already reddened lip, “I’m sure I can drive all those bad memories out of your mind.”

Jinyoung looked into his eyes. Jaebum was really hard to deny, it required all the strength of will he had.

“Can you?”

“Jinyoung,” he said the name slowly, “ _kiss me_.”

The air was punched out of his lungs heavily, but he grabbed onto the banister firmly and resisted the overwhelming urge.

“Are you using your powers on me again?” he questioned indignantly.

“Am I?” Jaebum answered with a smirk, “oh dear, must have been by accident.”

Jinyoung opened his mouth to continue to argue but Jaebum leaned in quickly and covered them with his own. He moved away just as speedily, but stayed in dreadful proximity that didn’t allow for another thought to pass through Jinyoung’s mind. He barely even felt the softness of Jaebum’s lips but his memories were all already scurrying away to let this one sit in the center.

“Well, that wasn’t so difficult,” Jaebum said gazing into his eyes with an unguarded expression, “it’s your turn now.”

Jinyoung had been waiting for this so long, he half-expected it would never happen. But now, he had an overwhelming urge to give Jaebum a little taste of what he has been going through these past two years.

He reached up to set Jaebum’s escaping hair in order, the other closing his eyes upon this touch. When Jinyoung leaned in, he directed his kiss just before Jaebum’s ear, his partner almost jumping at this. The next was for his cheekbone, down it, and Jaebum raised his chin more in that direction, but Jinyoung ignored it, moved up to kiss Jaebum’s brow instead. He kissed the corner of Jaebum’s eye, his trembling eyelid, scattered little pecks all over his face, and when Jaebum got impatient, he opened his eyes and started to complain.

“Jinyoung,“ he said in a whiny voice, “ can you not –“

Jinyoung interrupted those words, opening his mouth over Jaebum’s and nudging them into an incomplete dance, Jaebum responding promptly and Jinyoung drawing back, his mind screaming at him for it.

“Your turn,” he whispered, the anticipation of it boiling his nervous system.

Jaebum’s expression went from stunned to playful, his perfect lips adorned with a smirk, his black eyes looking at him dangerously. He slowed time with lazily reaching his hands over Jinyoung’s arms and closing them loosely behind his head. He approached Jinyoung sluggishly, his lips puckering against his in a chaste kiss, not letting Jinyoung take anything more.

“Are we playing chess?” Jaebum replied with a low chuckle that had Jinyoung quivering, “fine, your turn then.”

Jinyoung’s patience was at its end. He got to Jaebum’s lips and kissed them hard, put only a little bit of his fervent craving into it, but it was warm-blooded, Jaebum moving back with the force of it, tilting his head to the side to accommodate him better. He was hungry for more, but he stopped, let this game of theirs continue.

“Now it’s you,” his voice turned hoarse, and seeing how swollen Jaebum’s lips became was only making it worse.

Jaebum’s palms enclosed his face, pulled him nearer, his tongue sneaking through the opening of Jinyoung’s lips, drawing back to wet his lips and peeking in again. His kiss was more tender, lengthier than Jinyoung’s, but no less passionate. The depth and warmth of it made Jinyoung hold Jaebum tighter by the hand on his back.

“How do we decide who’s the winner?” Jaebum asked quietly, drawing only a centimeter away from him.

“I think we’re both the winners in this case,” Jinyoung countered, leaning down to possess those lips again.

He turned up the intensity of it, imitating what Jaebum had done with his tongue but faster, fiercer. He was greedy in his exploration of Jaebum’s mouth, but the other was not giving any less, his tongue moving against Jinyoung’s, playing with him and pushing at him. He was sensual but unrelenting, Jinyoung couldn’t really withdraw anymore, he just turned his head to the other side and deepened the angle, the moist heat of Jaebum’s mouth too welcoming to give it a moment’s rest. It was Jaebum who moved back in a way Jinyoung couldn’t kiss him again.

“Wait,” he said, his voice turbulent, “the last time you kissed me, you didn’t seem to know what you were doing. Did you –“

“I’m a fast learner, Jaebum,” he answered, his hand sinking into Jaebum’s hair to pull him back.

“Oh?” Jaebum gasped before his lips, “let me teach you more then.”

His next kiss seemed sloppier, the sounds of it making Jinyoung’s ears hot, as Jaebum teased him with his lips, moved the fingers on his face to the sensitive skin behind his ears. Jinyoung interrupted his efforts, pulled on his lower lip with his teeth, and Jaebum’s back arched, pushing his chest more into Jinyoung’s.

He wanted to experience all the kisses of the world with Jaebum, preferably, all of them right away. Who needed breathing when he could just melt in the taste of this?

They were both panting, messy, when they separated. He didn’t know if he looked unorderly, but he certainly felt like it. He opened his eyes and was struck with the way Jaebum’s lips glistened, the skin roughened, and his eyes blazing.

“Jinyoung, I hope you know,” he swallowed again, his eyes going down to Jinyoung’s own corrupted lips, “I want things to be clear between us, but it’s hard for me to say. I don’t even know why, they’re such simple words, but –“

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, using his scorched brain for a short moment, “ _I love you_ ,” he used the phrase in Dalhyo and Jaebum looked at him with a touched smile.

“ _Me too_ ,” Jaebum answered, his eyes ecstatic, “ _I love you, Jinyoung._ ”

It wasn’t a spell but it felt like one. As if a thread was tied between their hearts, and Jinyoung put his hand on Jaebum’s chest to feel his fluttering heartbeat. Jaebum moved his own hand to his neck, over his pulse, harmonizing with him.

He leaned in again, but this time he kissed reverently, softly. He treated Jaebum like the treasure he was and the other responded with mutual affection, but it didn’t lack voracity when Jaebum pulled him closer with the hand in his hair. His body told Jinyoung of sentiments that no words could encompass.

He was aware, distantly, that someone was clearing his throat to get their attention, but, as he thought it was just Youngjae trying to annoy him, he didn’t even think of reacting.

“Your majesty,” the Captain’s voice called, and Jinyoung moved swiftly away from Jaebum, to see not only the Captain trying to not make any kind of expression, but also other crewmen, either uncomfortably staring at them, or away from them. Only Youngjae seemed to be very amused by this, while Jaebum just let go of his frame and turned to the balustrade again, hiding his face in his hair, and leaving him to deal with them.

“Yes?” he tried to sound regal, but his voice was very clearly unstable.

“We are ready to sail, your majesty,” the Captain informed and Jinyoung agreed, trying to hold his irritation at bay. Did the man really interrupt them just to say that?

He exhaled tiredly when the Captain went away, turning to the rail and posing his head on Jaebum’s shoulder, giggling a bit.

“You two ever heard of private spaces? Common decency?” Youngjae mocked, and they both turned in his direction with a glare.

It probably wasn’t very princely to caress someone in public, but then, this was Jinyoung’s ship, he could do whatever he liked. He looked at Jaebum and the other had an entertained and delightful expression, a bit shy around the edges.

“Oh also, I don’t have a place to sleep,” Jaebum informed him suddenly, his voice hushed, the coyness gone in an instant, “I hope you will courteously share your cabin.”

Thank gods, he had a bed and not a hammock. This journey had a chance of ending prematurely with Jinyoung getting a heart attack, but he didn’t mind it as much as he should.

“Getting to the port must have tired you,” Jinyoung replied eagerly, “let’s go get some rest right away.”

Jaebum laughed in answer, the beautiful sound a thing Jinyoung would always associate with the liberating sensation of leaving the island in search of discovery.

~~ _The End_ ~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is the end of the main storyline, but it is not the end of the story as I'm working on a special chapter about JJP ;)
> 
> Also, as it's almost the end, I want to say that there is a possibility, in the future, that I will delate this work from the archive. From the beginning I used it as a (very, very rough) draft of an original story which will need a tremendous amount of work to even begin to resemble a book, but what is sleep for ey? Anyway, some of you seemed to like this little draft, so if you ever feel like you might want to read it again I recommend downloading it.
> 
> I want to thank you all for your company and your comments. I'm bad at finishing things, so contact with you helped me get to this point. I've grown fond of you guys, and you've left me many lovely messages. Because sadly the archive has no privite massaging option, if you'd like to talk to me somewhere else I have a tumblr: https://pomidorfriend.tumblr.com/ (admittedly I use it rarely, but I would answer a message), or an e-mail connected to my pen name: pomidor.fromao3@gmail.com
> 
> It sounds like a goodbye, but there's still the special chapter left so I will stop being dramatic now. To the next chapter then ;D


	34. Special Chapter: From Dusk Till Dawn

**Part one: An omnivorous student**

Jinyoung was so wrong to think he would get some rest when he left the island. He didn’t, of course, account for the wonderful and time-consuming company of Jaebum. Even when you took that away he was frenzied with all the other things. At first, it was discovering Liao, the port, the markets, the trails. Now that they have been here for over a month already, his sights have moved far beyond this enormous kingdom, to the world, to its geography, cultures, history, innovations. There was so much of it, everything went so far outside of what he knew and he wanted to learn it all, immediately - all the languages, all the technology, everything. His mind was reeling with all the possibilities.

The diversity of people they met here was staggering. The Liao people were similar to them, as they were the ancestors of Arulat folk, but even in them, he could see how separated the island was with looks, clothes, and language. There were words he did not know, simply because on the island they didn’t have the technology, and the accent was different too. They were instantly recognized as foreigners here, also because they seemed taller, gaunter, their faces were longer and their eyes differently shaped than the Liao people. He was more similar to Bambam in appearance, than he was to this nation’s populace, if you took away the white hair and blue eyes, and it made him wonder how much the original blood of his ancestor must have changed, how mixed they had to be with the Dal Salam. It also made him question who were the people that lived on the island before Dal fell on it, what civilization built Tsagaan City. There was knowledge to be uncovered here, back home, everywhere.

And the Liao nation was only the beginning. How different in appearance, culture, idiom, were the tall, bright-skinned people from the cold countries of the north, the Sun-worshipping brown-skinned raiders from the great plains, the incredibly dark-skinned wise man from over the ocean. His mind was making a place for them inside as he tried not to stare at them rudely, listened to their unfamiliar languages on the markets, wondered about the materials of their clothes.

The place that fascinated him the most was the National Academy. When they moved deeper into the land, he heard about a great library, said to be the oldest in this part of the world, so of course, he had to see it. After he had seen it, he decided that they would have to stay in the Capital City for at least another month because he fell in love. Not only with the library, but the Academy that owned it, that educated the best thinkers of Liao, that had people from all over the world coming to possess knowledge, to invent new knowledge. Jinyoung was shaking every time he as much as saw a scholar leaving the walls of it, loaded with books and scrolls. His mind craved this place, and only his other desire was able to make him forget it.

Once Jaebum allowed for them to be together, he did it fully, immediately, like a dam breaking. There was no graduality to it, from the day of their kiss, it all just cascaded. They knew each other’s secrets before, so they only added to it the intimate ones. Thus, Jinyoung’s other education started from the time they were on the ship. The exploration of Jaebum’s body, his emotions, and pleasures, was the activity that occupied Jinyoung’s mind and time. There was a certain, and very pressing, dilemma he had with it.

He had to be abnormal. They spent all their nights together, and still, he was hungry for more, his thoughts still run to Jaebum at various times, he burned with desire even after he indulged in it. How could he want so intensely something that Jaebum gave freely, readily, and often? Was it because he never had it for the twenty-eight years of his life? Were his body and brain trying to make up for it? He imagined that satiating his needs would make him think less about them, but the experience just made it easier for his mind to come up with new ideas, the vividness of his memories let him picture Jaebum’s physique and voice better.

With Jaebum as his partner and teacher, the exploration of all that the body had to offer became the most exquisite game. He knew the theory of it before, but how it would affect him, how it would show on Jaebum, that was something he had not imagined with adequate accuracy.

He learned many things he could have only dreamed of before, such as the joy of being entered. Being penetrated was unquestionably the most erotic, most overwhelming, but he had to admit to himself that the action he loved best was being inside Jaebum, as it allowed him to focus better on observing his pleasure. Physical fulfillment was a great part of it, but the ability to make Jaebum excited, to make him moan, and scream, and cry, that was what drove Jinyoung into a frenzy. Jaebum could be elegant when he was riding his cock, he made an art of the movement of his body, opened his mouth wide in silent or loud screams, closed his eyes, and bit on his lower lip when he felt the itching of Jinyoung inside him, constricted around him, crushing Jinyoung with the way he called his name, or begged for everything Jinyoung wanted to give him.

Jaebum used his power sometimes, after he once did it by accident and Jinyoung told him he didn’t mind it. It was nice to have control over Jaebum, but it was equally lovely to lose it. His voice vibrated in Jinyoung’s ears and made him into an instrument played masterfully. And Jaebum said such things, they crept back to Jinyoung’s memory at inopportune moments, making his blood boil. He could say: “ _hold me gently, Jinyoung, go slow. Let’s see how long you can hold out_ ,” but there were also times when he ordered Jinyoung to: “ _take me from the back, cover me whole, make it hard, abuse me,_ ” and Jinyoung was shocked how harsh he could become, how good it felt for both of them. At times, especially when Jaebum spoke in Liao, simple commands like ‘faster’ or ‘come,’ Jinyoung wasn’t sure if there was magic in it or if his body just listened to its owner.

He didn’t want Jaebum to think the only occupation he was interested in now was of a sexual nature, but he was also disproportionally lustful. And Jaebum really wasn’t helping matters, and only sometimes did Jinyoung think it was unconscious. In the beginning, he often attributed it to his own ridiculous libido. After some time, he realized that at least half of the seductive acts Jaebum performed was either instinctual or otherwise planned. He wasn’t sure it was like that when they talked, and Jaebum licked his lips, sometimes completely changing Jinyoung’s track from the thing he was excitedly narrating to a sudden need to take those lips, and if they were alone, he often just did it. He was certain it wasn’t innocent when they were in a carriage and Jaebum kissed him passionately, his hand high on Jinyoung’s thigh. He had to remind himself where they were, and force himself to wait to jump on Jaebum, who acted as if he completely forgot he had done it when Jinyoung started devouring his mouth and pushed him against the closed door.

This demonic part of Jaebum’s nature was further revealed to him by the man himself when he admitted he liked to test Jinyoung. That conversation heated his mind, though not from anger. It was after he told Jaebum how jealous he was of him, prompted by seeing how the people here were affected by his looks. He questioned then, the difference between their cultures. 

“How could your father take this? I know your culture doesn’t wholly accept the idea of possessing another, but jealousy is hard to control.”

“Oh, my father was jealous, and they fought about it often.”

“What?”

Jaebum raised from his rest on Jinyoung’s shoulder to sit astride his waist, Jinyoung’s spent member already tiredly twitching from the closeness.

“Jealousy, lust – they are products of passion and love. They give life flavour,” Jaebum told him with a smile.

Jinyoung sighed.

“You must not know how horrible jealousy feels.”

Jaebum laughed. He balanced himself with hands on Jinyoung’s chest and teased Jinyoung’s cock, slowly moving his opening, the sensitive skin of his perineum, his own hardening member against it, biting his lip and closing his eyes, his white chest covered with little kiss marks, his pink nipples protruding. Jaebum was very good at making a show of pleasure, making one want to give him pleasure.

“You think I don’t feel jealous? You think my mother didn’t?” he looked at Jinyoung through narrow eyes, challengingly, “every time I saw you with Mark, every time I remembered he was there with you and I was far away in my house, my heart ached.”

“Mark? Why Mark?” Jinyoung asked holding onto Jaebum’s moving hips.

“Because he likes you, can’t you tell?”

“He likes you, too,” Jinyoung answered, “isn’t he just generally flirtatious towards his friends?”

Mark liked to joke about such things, and there were moments when he disregarded personal space, but Jinyoung wasn’t the only one he behaved like that towards.

“He sometimes thinks about fooling around with me, that’s not the same. You fascinate him. I heard you two talk, you’re both so passionate in your discussions. It’s your intellect, Jinyoung, that interests him, more than just your body. He rarely meets someone who can follow or change his thought process and you are so wonderfully clever,” Jaebum punctuated with a harsher movement against him that had Jinyoung gasping.

“I didn’t think you felt that way,” he told Jaebum, “you asked me once if I wanted to try sleeping with others, with curiosity instead of anger.”

“I am less afraid of someone else touching you than I am of them corrupting your mind. I fear it, at times, that I won’t be a good enough match for you. That you will get bored of me.”

Jinyoung sat up, grabbing the sides of Jaebum’s face, pulling him into a profound kiss.

“There is no one and nothing that can force you out of my mind. It was infected by your presence from the moment we met.”

Jaebum beamed, leaning in to kiss his cheekbone, his nose, carefully avoiding the lips that longed for his.

“You have a right to let other people stimulate your mind, to be fascinated by others. My fears and my jealousy will not fade,” he licked across his palm and reached it down to grab Jinyoung’s member beneath him and pull on it, Jinyoung biting his shoulder to stifle the sounds, “and yours too, will probably appear again. When we have something precious, how can we not want to hide it from the rest of the world?” Jaebum’s voice was joyful, “I admit I am not entirely decent. I can see your jealousy and sometimes I make it worse on purpose, or by impulse,” Jinyoung raised his head to look at him accusatorily and Jaebum laughed, “it’s a game, Jinyoung. I check your limits. When you’re jealous, don’t let it fester inside you. You can be possessive of me and you can be angry at me. And if I think your accusations are groundless I will fight back against you. And then we can reconcile in this way,” Jaebum bit his lip hard as he started sinking onto Jinyoung’s cock.

He was still somewhat stretched from earlier, but this was certainly not sufficient to take Jinyoung with just saliva to ease the way. Jinyoung could see it hurt him, but he had no strength of will to stop him when he was sucked into this tight heat.

“I can show you that a bit of pain is worth it when you know pleasure comes after it.”

Jaebum certainly managed to prove that.

However, when Jinyoung went back to that talk, he wanted to lessen Jaebum’s fears. How could he get bored of him? That was not one of the possibilities. He also realized he admitted to Jaebum he had been interested in him from the moment they met, and he was worried Jaebum would take it as him being only drawn to his looks.

“I don’t love you because you’re beautiful,” he started, somehow clumsily.

Jaebum looked at him with mirth.

“Am I not beautiful?” he answered contrarily.

“No, of course, you are,” Jinyoung added hurriedly, “It’s just that - I’ve seen beautiful people before, but the radiance you have does not come from there. It comes from your kindness, from your joy, your curiosity, your sensitivity, your wild ideas, your gentleness for others, your outrage at cruelty. Your face is lovely because your eyes show your inquisitiveness, your lips show your happiness, your skin blushes from my touch. You aren’t a statue for me or anyone to admire. I love you, other people love you, for your feelings, for your thoughts, for existing in this world to add beauty to it,” Jinyoung assured, looking straight into Jaebum’s starry eyes.

“I know, Jinyoung,” Jaebum responded with a sweet kiss, “I realized it the same way I recognized it was not my spell that made you fall in love. My power, or looks, are not enough to make someone mad enough to cross a desert, almost die, and then wait patiently for me to deal with my worries for two years. There isn’t much that could make me doubt your love. I hope you don’t doubt mine.”

He didn’t distrust Jaebum’s love even for a moment, after the other had revealed his sentiments. Someone like Jaebum, that kept his feelings guarded, opening up to him, it was enough to make him certain.

The beauty of Jaebum’s mind was so far beyond anything else, and Jinyoung was so mad he could only see snippets of it. He knew Jaebum couldn’t explain exactly how he saw the world, and the glimpses of it were in his drawings, in the music he composed, even in the way he spoke. Jaebum saw everything through the screen of his emotions, and whether it was joy or sadness, it was still incredibly breathtaking in the ways it flooded back into the world. He was too intense of a being, flesh alone couldn’t contain him. Jinyoung felt similar to him in the way he felt himself so far outside of the trappings of his physique, his thoughts going in all directions, a vast landscape, imagination and information building worlds inside. He wanted to creep into Jaebum’s limitless world, see and understand it, but he would never be able to know it completely, some things would always remain private and hidden. Jinyoung felt an itching to know all about him.

That was possibly why he asked questions he knew would in some part upset him. He needed to understand Jaebum’s history, his growth into the man he was.

“When was your first time?” he asked while he had his head on Jaebum’s lap, reading a book on extinct species while Jaebum drew something, probably his face from the way he kept stealing glances at him.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked amusedly, and Jinyoung nodded, “I was fourteen.”

“Fourteen!” Jinyoung was more taken aback than he should.

“I’m sorry, is that so shocking for you?” Jaebum asked half-offended, “don’t try to tell me you didn’t feel lewd things at fourteen.”

“No, it’s just,” Jinyoung hesitated, “you know I’ve never been with anyone before you, so it’s a bit hard to imagine. You started so early, and I so late.”

“I don’t think it’s important when someone started. It’s not like one has to do it, and neither should it be forbidden.”

“So who was it with? Your first time?”

“A girl from my neighbourhood. She was a bit older than me, about two years.”

“Did you like her? How did it happen?”

“I don’t remember all the details around it. We were friends and she wanted to try it out, and I did too. So we just did it,” Jaebum shrugged his arms.

“How was it?”

“A bit awkward. I came incredibly fast and to apologize I tried to make her come with my mouth, which was also a bit clumsy, but she said it felt good.”

“You knew about such things at fourteen?”

“I am sure you of all people learned from many kinds of books,” Jaebum suggested lowly, “my mother never restricted any part of the library from me. When I was curious I read on it, and I was very curious about sex. She wanted to talk to me about intimacy, but I was too embarrassed to ask questions and generally liked to find things out on my own, so she left a medical book on my table, with bookmarks on how the body is built, how pregnancy occurs, how to stop it with a potion made of powdered palm leaf and red chalk, so I wouldn’t get a girl accidentally pregnant. But about how to please someone I mostly found out thanks to drawings in our copy of ‘Secrets of the Flesh’, and later by trial and error.”

“I imagine you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum retorted warningly.

“I’m not judging you,” he answered honestly, “so did you and the girl have a relationship?”

“For a while. She actually liked someone else, I was more of a practice partner for her.”

“And later?”

“I was a bit fixated with the pleasures of the body,” Jaebum answered, his hand running through Jinyoung’s hair, “and my powers started changing at that time too. I used them to draw attention to myself at times. I’m not going to enumerate all the people I slept with. There was one lover in particular, who was much older than me and taught me a lot.”

Jinyoung wanted to at once know about all of those people and times, and was jealous of all of those who touched Jaebum before him. But he was learning to draw from Jaebum’s tolerance, acknowledge that the past was in the past, and that he triumphed over all those people simply because Jaebum loved him. They were all parts of Jaebum’s life, but he was determined to be the most important one.

The one who he was still incredibly jealous of was Jackson, mostly because he knew the king personally, saw him with Jaebum, and knew that there was a deep connection between them.

“Is there anyone I know, besides Jackson, that you slept with?” he asked with sudden realization.

“Do you know lady Mokoe’s second daughter?”

“Yuri? I think I’ve met her.”

“Than yes? I’m not sure how many of them you’ve met in passing, but I don’t think you know any of them well.”

“What about Mark? You said he wanted to sleep with you, but you’ve known each other for a long time, didn’t you? Why did you two never –“

“Because I didn’t want to complicate our friendship,” Jaebum answered sighing, “Mark can be very annoying too, and uses other’s weak points. We kissed once, but nothing beyond that.”

“You kissed?”

“While we were drunk. Anyway, never did it again,” Jaebum said in a reassuring tone.

Jinyoung knew that Mark and Jaebum met when they were children. Jaebum had told him how one of the noble children had insulted him for being a half-blood and from that time on he asked his mother to let him stay in his room when the clans were meeting, and his mother indulged him when he was still small, only later on explaining he had to stand proudly before them or else they would always think him less. Anyway, on one such occasion, Mark found his room while stealthily exploring the house. They were the same age and Mark was friendly, so they started playing together. From Mark’s side, he knew Jaebum had always been a bit of a crybaby, and he also hated losing, so Mark made sure to win with him in everything and cause him to throw a tantrum.

“Did our friendship get complicated?” he asked with a smirk, lifting Jaebum’s shirt to kiss his stomach.

“From very early on, I felt that being just friends with you would be impossible.”

Jinyoung bit the soft skin and Jaebum threw his head back, pulling on his hair a bit to reprimand for this attack.

“You certainly lacked the courtesy to make that clear for me.”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Jaebum countered throwing his sketchbook away and dragging Jinyoung up to his lips.

Even when they were out of strength, when the day had been too full of their trade duties, or new discoveries, or unexpected adventures, and they fell tiredly into the bed, at times he woke up in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours wrapped in Jaebum’s body, and reacting to its warmth. If he was a nicer person he would let the other sleep and ignore his own pressing needs, but as he was selfish, he brought Jaebum out of his dreams with soft kisses and delicate, ticklish touches. Jaebum opened his mouth against him half-asleep, let Jinyoung assault his boneless figure with gentle strokes until they roused him, and they writhed against each other sleepily, gasping into each other’s mouth quietly.

They almost killed Youngjae in this way once. It was actually his fault for refusing to use doors instead of windows and dropping in uninvited. They didn’t expect him too, now that he didn’t have to help Jinyoung with the matters in the castle and had the freedom to continue his vagabonding lifestyle, he could be gone for days, exploring this country in his own mysterious manner and returning very suddenly. Nonetheless, he was happy for his friend’s fast reflexes and managing not to fall down. It even made Youngjae use doors, occasionally.

His mornings with Jaebum were serene, the nights with him were wild, the days always interesting. He didn’t even want to think about how they would have to separate for days and weeks when they returned to the island, how he wouldn’t have his constant company, would sleep without his warmth, couldn’t reach for him when he needed, couldn’t tell him what he thought at any given moment.

Perhaps that was what made him so voracious for Jaebum and for knowledge both. Because he loved this life, he wanted this life. Spending his time on exploring the unknown, on learning, on writing his notes, on talking with Jaebum, on kissing, and touching, and taking him, how could he give that up when it was time? He dreaded it, and only rarely thought about it, with how many other, more agreeable things there were on his mind.

They had both created new habits. From the time Jinyoung started learning Dalhyo, he wrote a lot in journals, to remember better. Now he used them to write notes on the things he learned, short references to the books he read, or his observations. For some reason Jaebum loved them, he insisted that Jinyoung had a way with words. Jinyoung gave him full access to those private records, just as he shared everything else with him. Jaebum once asked him if he could add something, and Jinyoung of course agreed. He didn’t expect to see a very detailed map of their way to the Capital that he had described. From that time on, his notebooks often merged his words and Jaebum’s drawings. He could draw maps, but not only, other things were precise drawings of buildings, life-like figures, and faces of the foreigners. The way these shared experiences were depicted by them both transformed those journals into Jinyoung’s finest treasures. 

But they didn’t actually share everything, they weren’t together every minute of every day, and it was fine too, as long as they returned to each other later. Jaebum liked to sleep longer and he also got bored with how much time Jinyoung spent at the library, so his companionship in there got rarer with time. While his lover enjoyed books, they were mostly fictional or poetic writings. When it came to studying, he preferred for Jinyoung to summarize what he read to him.

This place was truly Jinyoung’s second great love. Youngjae had laughed when he saw it for the first time, clapping Jaebum’s shoulder, wishing the half-blood: ‘good luck on getting him out of here’. As much as Youngjae liked to joke about Jinyoung being a book-worm, he was not against books himself either. Sometimes he accompanied Jinyoung to this place, though he often disappeared without him even noticing. The worst was when they both decided to go with him, because together, they were just too chaotic and talkative. Jinyoung actually preferred to spend this time on his own, without any distractions, only him and his books.

Many people used the library, of course, but it was so huge, Jinyoung had learned all the nooks where one could hide with a collection of tomes. It had many sections and Jinyoung would like to read every book in all of them, but he knew it was an impossible dream, so he focused on his areas of interest: history, geography, legends, medicine. The building was connected to the Academy, so he often saw passing scholars, young students nervously looking for that or this book.

The Academy was not one building, but a large enclosed space, with many old and new constructions scattered through its beautiful gardens. Some places were open to the public, while others were only for the scholars. The main Hall of Enlightenment held historical importance, it was a great round lodge, the oldest standing part of the university. Jinyoung had seen it and remained charmed by its royal red walls, the elegant calligraphy covering them, the creaking, wooden floors.

But there was one place he wished to see the most – the restricted sector of the library. It just so happened that the person guarding it became mysteriously unconscious, and definitely not because of the shenqui dust that Mark had told him about. So Jinyoung used this fortunate event to slip into this oft-dreamed room. His eyes travelled over the high shelves, the strange objects hanged on walls and posed on long tables, and finally got drawn to large designs on the left, approaching it with interest. Underneath them laid an open book. Jinyoung closed it to see the title – ‘Experimental ways of producing energy.’ He looked up at the drawing again, trying to work out what it represented.

“Curious about my project?” an unfamiliar voice asked and Jinyoung turned with fright.

He had no sword with him, all weapons had to be deposited at the entrance to the Academy, but he had the dust and his fists. Besides, there was an old man standing before him, he could surely deal with him.

“I must have gotten lost,” he said, forcing his body to relax, “forgive me, I do not know this city and country well.”

“You do look and sound foreign, but I can’t place your accent,” the old scholar answered with a smile, his clever eyes amused, “it’s been a while since I saw someone use shenqui dust.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” the man joked.

Jinyoung looked back at the drawing.

“Did you make this?” he asked the man.

“I did.”

“What is it?”

“What do you think?”

A large wooden beam, metal tubes, a container, some kind of furnace. The substance on the bottom in separated wells had to be water.

“You use steam,” he said observing the left side of the design, “to bring the beam down? And the other side is pulled down by weight. You pump water this way.”

The academic stared at him indescribably.

“Where are you from?” he asked with fascination, “have you been across the ocean? Have you seen a steam pump there?”

“No,” Jinyoung answered, looking over at the drawing again, “do they use it?”

“I have seen them draw water from the mines that way, but the process is slow and expensive. My project is as of yet unfinished, but drawing water from wells is not the thing I want to use it for.”

“What use do you see for it?”

“Mills, textile production. Even carriages, that will not need horses.”

Jinyoung stared at the man. What wonderful, strange things he was envisioning.

“How?”

“I do not know yet. It will be others, long after my time, creating what I want, but I know it’s possible.”

“Isn’t it a waste?” he asked, seeing more than one problem with this design, “it has to be heated again and again. It could only really work efficiently if the container remained hot at all times, but what material would take such pressure? And as long as the steam does not pull up the beam by itself and relies on weight –“ he stopped, hearing the hurried steps, probably of guards, outside the door.

“Interesting,” the Scholar remarked, “are you a student here?”

“No,” Jinyoung answered without thinking, only later realizing he should have lied.

The man smiled oddly again.

“Pity. Let me walk you back out then, so that you won’t get _accidentally_ lost again.”

Jinyoung realized the man had saved him by this, as the guards running around didn’t try to bother them. They stopped by the entrance, Jinyoung unwilling to leave and the Scholar looking at him kindly.

“You know, we admit new students every three months if they manage to pass the tests. We value the desire for knowledge above all, it makes little difference to us where one’s from or who they are.”

Jinyoung was breathless. Before he managed to answer the man, there were hands turning him and pulling him closer by the edges of the long, Liao-style coat he took to wearing when the weather became colder than what he was used to. He recognized the culprit right away before he even saw him.

Jaebum was more clingy in private than public spaces, but this time he pushed his whole body into him in this kiss, and Jinyoung knew, instantly, that something was wrong. When they separated, Jaebum seemed to look sharply at the Scholar, and he really could glare with those panther-like eyes.

“I have to go,” Jinyoung told the old man and started pulling Jaebum out of the Academy, the scholar looking after them humorously.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Jaebum, holding onto his hand tightly.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jaebum said back, and Jinyoung almost believed him, “you’ve just been there for a long time.”

“I was talking with that Scholar.”

“I see.”

Something was definitely wrong. Jaebum always asked Jinyoung about the things that interested him. Jinyoung remembered that talk they had about jealousy and other people corrupting his mind, and he understood a little.

“Are you jealous?” he asked, a bit amused, “you know, he’s a bit old for me.”

“I’m not,” Jaebum replied stubbornly.

Jinyoung hugged him from behind and kissed his neck.

“Come on, you said we can be honest with each other.”

Jaebum didn’t answer him and left his embrace lightly, but with a frigidity Jinyoung wasn’t used to.

“I want to go somewhere,” Jaebum said and Jinyoung agreed, surprised by the sudden change of subject.

That somewhere turned out to be a tavern, a big and noisy one, filled with the smell of alcohol and tobacco, the heady atmosphere magnified by the slow rhythm of the music. When they entered it, Youngjae joined them out of nowhere, but that was a pretty common occurrence, so Jinyoung wasn’t even startled.

“What’s happening here?” Jinyoung asked after the singer changed for the third time, every artist performing only one song. In the center of the bar, with the perfect view of the stage, sat an elegantly dressed woman, with a long pipe and, even though she looked like Liao people, she was dressed in an exotic fashion, her arms uncovered in her emerald dress.

“It’s a contest,” Youngjae supplied, “that woman is a very well-known singer all around the world, but she started out right here in this tavern.”

Jaebum stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jinyoung asked, still worried about Jaebum’s strange mood.

“I’m going to win it,” he said, and Jinyoung knew this face. It was the face of Jaebum preparing himself to bet against someone.

“Wait –“

But Jaebum shook off his hand and went behind the stage, where the singers prepared. Jinyoung sat in place, hesitant if he should follow him.

“What is the prize?”

“A meal with her, I think?” Youngjae answered.

Now Jinyoung felt the familiar stirrings of jealousy. This woman was very attractive, and the confident way she sat reminded him too much of Jackson.

Jaebum didn’t help matters when he appeared on the stage, his black shirt opened to his sternum, his hair in premeditated disarray and covering one of his eyes, and the worst, somehow, he had on a blood-red lip rouge, that just made him look indecent. When he looked up with his one uncovered eye, the room went quiet.

Sensual music started being played and Jaebum opened his mouth, letting out a throaty hum, his voice honeyed and unique, as it always was. He was singing in Dalhyo. It sounded suggestive enough without knowing the language and Jinyoung, unfortunately, understood those words. He knew Jaebum was singing a song with double meaning, about the spring making flower buds open and enchanting bees, about the winter making animals hide in their burrows to snuggle up together. He knew what it meant when Jaebum sang that he drank nature’s nectar and he begged for more of it.

“Is he using magic?” Youngjae asked restlessly, unable to take his eyes of Jaebum, like everyone in the room, including the famous singer.

“No,” Jinyoung answered swallowing. He was pretty good at telling when Jaebum used his power, but he didn’t have to when his timbre alone was making all these people bewitched.

Jaebum was mostly looking at the woman, but now his eyes went towards him, and he bit on his lower lip, the way he did when Jinyoung was inside him, smearing the lip rouge a bit.

That was too much. Jinyoung had to leave, he was too hot, too excited, and jealous at once. There was too much smoke here, he needed to breathe.

When he went outside he posed his head against the wall of a neighboring building, taking hungry gulps of air. The side street was empty, most of the patrons standing before the entrance of the tavern, the moon full and bright. He felt the hand on his shoulder and he knew he would see Jaebum when he turned around, so he didn’t. He was instead forcefully turned to face him, and the sight of Jaebum’s skin with its strange luminousness in the moonlight, his lips still red, his shirt still half-undone, it was too stimulating. He averted his eyes.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebum’s voice was incensed somehow, “ _look at me_.”

Jinyoung couldn’t disobey the spell, he had to look straight into Jaebum’s blazing eyes. The coldness from before the song was gone, Jaebum was burning now, with too many emotions for Jinyoung to read easily.

“Jaebum –“

The man pushed him back against the wall with a kiss that was chaotic, possessive. He answered with the same zeal, remembering how the people in the tavern watched while Jaebum was singing, their eyes filled with dirty thoughts and appraisal. His hand tightened on Jaebum’s arm and his lover reacted by kissing him harder, deeper. Jaebum got like this sometimes, dominating and aggressive, though Jinyoung wasn’t as used to it as he was to him being receptive and sensuous.

When Jaebum moved back for a moment to let them pant madly, Jinyoung could see that they smeared the lip balm, giving Jaebum, and him probably, a ragged look. The sight and the intense kiss made Jinyoung light-headed.

“You said you weren’t jealous,” Jinyoung whispered, “why are you torturing me?”

“Torturing you?” Jaebum chuckled darkly, “I did nothing.”

“The song, Jaebum. You knew I was the only one who would be able to understand, and you sang it in front of all these people, making a spectacle of yourself. You wanted to fire me up and make me jealous.”

Jaebum’s red lips stretched in a smile.

“Did it work?”

“What do you think?” Jinyoung barked back, “now tell me why. Is it really about that man from the Academy?”

Jaebum set his jaw.

“It’s not about him. Not only about him,” he said with displeasure, “it’s the Academy. It wants to take you away.”

“What?”

Jaebum didn’t give him an answer and clung to his lips again, this time softly, wetly. He made Jinyoung’s shoulders fall down from their protective position with careful movements of his tongue, getting closer to Jinyoung’s body, slowly driving him more into the wall.

There was a string of saliva connecting them when he drew back, his eyes and lips an exquisitely erotic sight. Jinyoung was shaky from his look, smell, and taste. He leaned to kiss him, tried to assert back some of his own strength and confidence, but Jaebum didn’t let him, he opened his mouth wide, ate at Jinyoung until he submitted and let him decide the angle, the depth, the rhythm. Jinyoung has lost too much of his ability to think and just let himself feel it, but he jumped away from the kiss when he felt Jaebum’s thigh fit itself between his, pressing against his fast-growing arousal. Jaebum didn’t let him get away, he took Jinyoung’s hands by the wrists and pinned them to the wall beside his head, not letting go, his leg still in its improper place.

“ _Relax, Jinyoung_ ,” he mumbled, his voice seeping into Jinyoung’s brain, “let me take care of you.”

“This is vulgar,” Jinyoung answered, trying to free his hands.

“What is?” Jaebum asked, kissing his jaw, “the song?” he punctuated with a kiss, “the lip balm?” he said smearing more of it onto Jinyoung’s face, “or this?” he raised his leg higher, the pressure of his thigh making Jinyoung whimper.

“The place, Jaebum,” Jinyoung responded weakly, turning his face away from Jaebum’s kiss.

Anyone could pass by here. He would never reject Jaebum’s touch, but it ashamed him to be seen like this, and he was passing the point when he could yet keep himself in check.

“Hmmm,” Jaebum hummed against his skin, “let us be a little vulgar then.”

He returned to his assault on Jinyoung, who closed his mouth in the last effort to hold himself together. But the pressure of that thigh, the strong hands that held his wrists, the weight of Jaebum’s body against him, it was enough to make Jinyoung lose his resistance and ignore how embarrassing this was, and his perfidious tongue left his lips to play with its partner in the cool night air. Jaebum smirked against his lips when he possessed them again, his attack chaotic but powerful, the rhythmic thrusts of his leg providing horrible, fantastic friction that had Jinyoung moaning into his mouth. He licked off all of the lip rouge, ate the cherry flavour to feel only Jaebum.

Jaebum was hard too, he could feel it against himself. His body was mollifying, transforming from this dominant Jaebum into a softer and more pliable form Jinyoung possessed every night in one way or another. His hands went from Jinyoung’s wrists up to his palms, to intertwine their fingers, the licks against Jinyoung’s lips almost apologetic at times. He could feel liquid running down their faces and he stopped the kiss to look at Jaebum, saw the tears adorning his cheeks and he freed one of his hands to wipe at them, Jaebum snuggling into his hand like a cat, holding onto his hand, as if Jinyoung could even think about letting him go.

He felt a bit like crying himself, not of sadness, but because their emotions were mingling and overflowing. It was too hard to keep them at bay, the only thing he could do was to return to kissing Jaebum, taking his breath away. Jaebum mewled softly into him, the sound vibrating through the whole of Jinyoung’s body as they moved against each other, fit perfectly to elicit pleasure that wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.

Their bodies trembled more the faster they moved, and Jinyoung felt he had to react quickly. He reached down to his own pants and dragged them down, uncovering his bits and backside for the wind to examine and did the same to Jaebum’s garments, the other understanding and drawing as close as he could to him, their manhood’s against each other, moving desperately to obtain what they needed, aided by the chaotic tugs of their hands. 

His orgasm came a tick before Jaebum’s, and he bit into his shoulder through the shirt, pulling on Jaebum’s member excruciatingly, his beloved groaning when he came over his hand.

When they caught their breaths they moved in unison to connect their lips again, and for a moment they felt like one being, both chasing after that emotion with hopelessness.

__

**Part two: An impulsive sorcerer**

Jaebum often woke up to this view, Jinyoung by his desk, the sunlight creeping in, although today the sky was grey and rainy, the sounds of drops hitting their window a nice, soothing melody. This rented room was like a small isolated space of their own, and the weather only amplified this impression.

He didn’t want to disturb Jinyoung. Sometimes, he spent a lot of time lying in bed and watching Jinyoung’s back at the desk, his arm moving as he wrote his journals. Jaebum didn’t do anything, but he imagined wicked things, excited by the seductive view of Jinyoung’s shoulder blades in movement, of the back of his neck that called for Jaebum’s teeth. He imagined that Jinyoung’s arm was moving for quite a different reason, sneakily trying to please himself under the desk. Or he imagined himself walking over to whisper dirty things into Jinyoung’s ear, teasing the back of his neck with his fingers, with his tongue, Jinyoung shooing him away in a way he never did in reality. But he would be helpless against Jaebum’s attacks, melting when Jaebum’s mouth landed on the tender skin of his ear, his hands on his chest, playing with his nipples. Jaebum wouldn’t let him think about anything else, he would go around and sit on Jinyoung’s lap, move his hips against Jinyoung’s hardening member until he was leaking through his trousers and hurriedly opening them, Jaebum’s naked body already ready to take him, sitting down, spearing himself on Jinyoung’s member as the prince kissed and bit along his back and shoulders. He would move up and down slowly, teasingly, taking the mellow pleasure of it not being enough to drive him over the edge, until Jinyoung lost his patience and pushed him onto the desk driving into him harshly, taking everything from him, until Jaebum stained the notebooks with his pleasure.

Jaebum turned his head away from the image of Jinyoung still innocently writing something, hiding his groan in the pillow, driving his hips into the bed, which annoyed him by giving him friction. Gods, he was a degenerate. Jinyoung had made him come three times last night, with his hands, his mouth, his clenching insides. How much could one person want? Youngjae called it their ‘honeymoon phase’ because Youngjae just loved to get in other people’s business and comment on it. Jaebum sincerely hoped that the phase would someday quiet down into a normal person’s sex drive, otherwise he could truly die and even Jackson’s black stone wouldn’t be able to revive him. He imagined he could drop dead from the tension between the sheer fulfillment of making Jinyoung spill himself inside him, while he was still aching with need.

He felt the bed dip and a hand pet his hair.

“I can tell by your breathing when you’re awake, you know?” Jinyoung informed him and Jaebum shoved his face more into the pillow. “Are you trying to suffocate yourself?”

Jinyoung knew him too well. He saw through him too quickly and Jaebum was afraid to show his expression, this shameful lack of any sort of constraint or sanity. His body was too wonton, he had always been a great fan of physical pleasure, but since Jinyoung touched him it reached new ridiculous heights as if there was no limit. Jinyoung already indulged him a lot, despite the fact he had never slept with anyone before, and probably didn’t have such shameless needs all the time.

“Jaebum,” Jinyoung said in a firm tone.

“Go away,” Jaebum mumbled from the pillow. He was so hard, he was barely straining not to ride his hips into the mattress again.

“Show me your face first.”

Jaebum moved his head to negate. Jinyoung was apparently in a difficult and stubborn mood. His hand roamed to pull on Jaebum’s ear, to tickle the nape of his neck, and generally annoy him.

“Can you –“ he lifted his head to glare at him, but Jinyoung wasn’t afraid of him at all. He only kissed Jaebum in a sudden movement, making him lose this argument instantly.

“Your face is red,” Jinyoung notified with delight, “your body’s hot, and you’re hiding. What were you thinking about?”

“How bothersome my lover is?”

Jinyoung laughed.

“ _Am I bothering your mind that much?”_ Jinyoung whispered into his ear in Dalhyo, because he knew it worked wonders on Jaebum when he used it.

Jaebum tried to hide in the pillow again, but he had a bigger problem than his face showing his state when Jinyoung pulled on the covers, the whole of Jaebum’s naked body exposed.

“Jinyoung!” he protested, as the prince’s hand travelled down his spine.

“Turn around,” Jinyoung ordered, his hand going lower, “I want to see.”

Jaebum didn’t plan to comply, but he jumped up when Jinyoung’s hand squeezed his ass cheek, sitting away from Jinyoung and trying to cover himself.

“Why are you so bashful, Jaebum?” Jinyoung laughed, “I saw it before many times. In fact, you were inside me yesterday, I know what you look and feel like.”

Jaebum was not sure why he was suddenly so embarrassed. He uncovered his hardness slowly, hesitantly, feeling inspected. Jinyoung was clothed, not hard, it felt like he had an upper hand and it only made Jaebum more excited. There was something seriously wrong with him.

Jinyoung was watching him with a strangely focused expression. He usually looked at him as if he wanted to eat him up, but Jaebum could see devious thoughts going through his mind and he shivered under them.

“Remember that time you made me come against the wall and some people saw that?”

Of course, he remembered. Jinyoung didn’t have to remind him how shameless he could get.

“You didn’t apologize for that,” Jinyoung added.

“Am I supposed to say sorry for making you feel good?” Jaebum shot back.

Jinyoung raised his eyes to his with a truly unsettling expression.

“Tell me,” he said slowly, “what were you planning now? Waiting for me to leave and do what?”

Jaebum opened his mouth with disbelief. What was Jinyoung aiming for?

“Do it in front of me,” Jinyoung told him, no shame over such a ridiculous request.

“What?”

“I want to see you please yourself.”

A current of stunned excitement went through his body. Jinyoung was serious. Gods, he really was.

Jaebum could, of course, refuse. He didn’t plan to, but it was a viable option. Instead, he lifted his hand and put two of his fingers inside his mouth, looking at Jinyoung through lidded eyes, searching for all signs of arousal he could.

Jinyoung watched intently as he sucked on his own fingers, imagining they were Jinyoung’s, whimpering around them for the other’s enjoyment. He really wanted to get right to touching himself, but if Jinyoung wanted a show, he had to at least not come in two seconds. He moved his hand slowly from his mouth, down his neck, to play around with his nipple, looking at Jinyoung with false coyness. He pinched himself hard, to make himself stay on track, and not drown in Jinyoung’s dark, intrigued eyes. Slowly, he touched himself, holding in a whimper. He was too wound up already, he wouldn’t last. He moved up and down slowly, his arm quivering with the force of preventing any faster tugs.

He felt Jinyoung’s gaze prickling his skin, between wanting to be watched and wanting to hide. It was more of the same on his list of perversions, he loved to be admired by Jinyoung. His body was in disaccord, his legs closing to cover the view while he looked at Jinyoung invitingly, pushed his chest forward hoping Jinyoung would grab onto it. Jinyoung liked to abuse that part of him, to grab onto it when he was taking him from the back, or leave harsh bites on the skin.

“Don’t cover yourself,” Jinyoung commanded with a strict expression.

Jaebum raised his chin while he looked into his eyes, smiling stubbornly, and disobeyed, closing his knees more while his fingers tickled below his manhood. He enjoyed playing these games with Jinyoung, he knew it was capricious of him, but Jinyoung loved him all the same. Jaebum would have liked to give him some more spirited resistance, tease him until he pleaded, but his desire was too great to hide for long.

Jinyoung grabbed onto his jaw sternly, forcing him forward. He punished Jaebum with leaning down and halting right before their lips touched, holding him firmly in place, the whole of Jaebum’s body spasming from need. He keened because he knew Jinyoung couldn’t keep up with being cruel, and he was right. The prince pushed their noses together, before he gave Jaebum the much-needed kiss, Jaebum dissolving into it, his knees falling apart while his hands went up to hold Jinyoung’s face.

When they separated, Jinyoung stood up, uncaring about the hands trying to hold him close. He went around the bed and Jaebum turned immediately in that direction, overjoyed when Jinyoung sunk to his knees. He scooted enthusiastically closer, his fingers immersing in the prince’s soft hair as Jinyoung opened his mouth wide over him. 

The lips could feel things no other part of the body did. He wondered if it gave Jinyoung pleasure, the way it provided it to him, to be stretched around him, feel another’s every move, and tremble. Jinyoung certainly looked like he enjoyed doing it.

Jaebum had taught him how to do this, by example and direction both, and Jinyoung was always hungry to learn, and he picked up on anything quickly. Jaebum had made him into this, Jinyoung was his creature when it came to carnality and it made him inexplicably proud to have been the one to do so. And Jinyoung was a perfect lover, more than Jaebum himself, because he often focused on Jaebum’s pleasure more than his own, and invited Jaebum to take and take, selfishly, entirely, to melt under his touch. Jaebum had had dominant lovers before, but Jinyoung was different, his power over him was quiet, loving. Jinyoung seemed hardly aware of how far he could go, how easy it was to submit to him.

He was so beautiful, always, but especially in this worshipful pose, concentrated on his task of making Jaebum go wild, his hands squeezing around the thigh posed on his arm, his mouth wet and tight, maddening. Jaebum closed his eyes and straightened as his hips moved up slightly to go deeper into it, Jinyoung holding him down in warning. Jaebum knew he wouldn’t last long, not like this, and he tried to communicate that to his lover, who ignored it and swallowed his seed, Jaebum’s hand in his hair gripping without control as the outbreak shook him.

He didn’t let himself rest, disregarding the languidness of satisfaction and jumping down, pinning Jinyoung to the floor and reaching his hand to grip his hardness.

“My turn,” he suggested, overpowering Jinyoung with a savage thrill. 

Their time together made him more aware of what he was afraid of previously. He was starting to lose sight of what it meant to be completely separate, by this point, it was hard for him to imagine his life without Jinyoung, his days without him. He didn’t feel completely himself when he didn’t have Jinyoung by his side, and this growing co-dependency terrified him. Even when they were close, when they shared thoughts and bodies, he felt this was not enough, he wanted to have more of Jinyoung.

This was not what he has been taught. The Dal Salam valued individuality, they didn’t necessarily think love useless or unimportant, or that you couldn’t spend your life with someone, but one had to be able to stand on their own two feet. Jaebum was always too human in this aspect, he relied too heavily on his parents, on Yugyeom, and now Jinyoung as well. It was ironic that both he and his brother were so far outside of what they were supposed to be when it came to love, one bonded for life, and Jaebum himself feeling every day his addiction to Jinyoung growing. Yes, now he understood his anxieties fully, but there was nothing he could do except hold onto Jinyoung tightly. Once they started it couldn’t be stopped.

***

“Half-blood, wake up!” Youngjae’s voice ordered, and Jaebum opened one of his eyes to look blearily up at the man crouching in his window.

“We have doors, you know,” he answered yawning and trying to open his other eye.

“Really don’t want to hear that from someone who floats onto balconies,” Youngjae pestered, “are you dressed?”

Obviously, Jaebum wasn’t dressed. Why would he be when he could cling nakedly to Jinyoung’s body? Although now, the prince was not next to him, which was not an uncommon occurrence, with how long Jaebum liked to sleep.

“Where’s Jinyoung?” he asked, although he was pretty sure he had gone to the library, or to another place full of books.

“Went to sigh longingly by the Academy again. He told me not to wake you up.”

“So why did you?”

“You will be glad when you find out. Come on, get dressed, and meet me downstairs.”

There were two things Youngjae loved with the zeal Jinyoung had for tomes, one was weaponry, the other – food. It just so happened that Jaebum was enthusiastic about that second one as well.

They all went to explore on their own, Jinyoung looking for what he could learn, Jaebum mostly having fun, and Youngjae just did things he normally did, that he didn’t bother clarifying. The Capital was massive, bigger than the cities of Arulat and Dal thrown together, so even after the three months they have spent here, there were still many places undiscovered by them. The walk to this spot was long, and Youngjae led him through some narrow streets to it. He wasn’t sure he would know how to get back.

When they finally arrived, Youngjae had shared his discovery of Bingsu, and oh, what a wonderful thing it was, the sweetness, the coolness. Jaebum was very thankful that he woke up.

They were returning through some kind of unknown market, various cages with animals among them. He was startled when he heard a scratchy voice unexpectedly call “Moonchild,” and he turned around searching for the source, Youngjae watching him questioningly.

“Did you hear that?”

“What?” Youngjae asked.

Jaebum stopped his rotating. Among the animals, there was a strange specimen: a bird, similar to a vulture, but much larger, it’s gigantic wings and bald, red head frightening. It stared at Jaebum with intelligent eyes and opened its beak.

“Hello, Moonchild,” the bird’s abrasive voice repeated and Jaebum stood speechless.

Did he, after all, possess a little bit of Yugyeom’s gift? This had never happened before.

“Are you talking to me?” he answered and the bird seemed to almost smile.

“Who else is there? You do not look like one, but I can feel the Moon’s silver magic flowing from you.”

“Half-blood, are you talking to that bird?” Youngjae inquired tentatively.

“Why can I hear you, and he can’t?” Jaebum asked the bird.

“Because I chose not to let the human understand me. But you are a magical creature, as am I.”

“What kind of magical creature are you?” Jaebum moved closer to it with interest.

“I am a witch’s familiar, Moonchild. My name is Kresnik.”

“My name is Jaebum,” he replied courteously, “what does it mean to be a witch’s familiar?”

“We bond with humans that use magic so that it makes both of us stronger.”

Bond? The only kind of bonding that Jaebum knew was the one between couples.

“Humans that use magic?” that too, seemed strange to him. More than that, if he remembered how the council used the Moonstone, it sounded sinister. But they would have never been able to do it without Lanlu.

“Did you think that only those born with magic like us can use it?” the bird asked amusedly, “your island is very behind everything.”

“How do you know about our island? How do you know about Moonbloods?”

“Some of you left the island too. I had a chance to meet one, a very long time ago.”

Jaebum noticed now, that Kresnik was chained to the trunk it was sitting on.

“Why are you here, chained? Where is your witch? If you’re a magical creature, why don’t you free yourself?”

“This is no ordinary chain,” the bird answered with weary anger, “it stops my power, and it makes it impossible for my mistress to find me,” it looked at him fiercely, “but you could free me.”

“Me? Forgive me, but my powers are of a different nature. I can try to talk that man into freeing you –“

“He will not do it.”

“Then I’ll ask my friend to cut at the chain,” he looked around, but Youngjae was gone, he must have gotten bored of listening to Jaebum and the bird talk, “or we can buy you out. I don’t have much with me, but I can return with more.”

“Do you really not know how to do this?” Kresnik asked incuriously, “you have an artifact and you can’t use it?”

“An artifact?”

“That black stone you’re wearing.”

Jaebum looked down at Jackson’s stone.

“No, this is a memento. It has some magic, but not mine.”

“It doesn’t matter whose magic it is. It’s just a power source, I could use it, as could a human magician.”

“How?”

“Would you like me to teach you, Moonchild?”

Jaebum should say no. He didn’t know this strange creature, and he wasn’t sure what it planned.

“What do you want to teach me?”

“How to free me. I will show you how to use the magic around you, not the one you were born with, but one that is everywhere.”

“Fine, tell me how.”

“Put one of your hands on the chain,” Jaebum followed the instruction, looking around for the salesman, but he was busy with some clients, “now, the other on the stone. Feel the current of magic in this chain.”

Jaebum could feel it, the eccentricity of the material under his hand.

“Feel the power of your stone, and repeat after me, imagining cutting a rope.”

He reached for the familiar magic of the black stone, that felt like Jackson’s power, like his presence, and he imagined Jackson swinging his sword at the rope, while he repeated the unknown words, putting his own power into them.

The chain broke under his hand, and as soon as it did, the great bird spread it’s wide wings and screeched, the salesmen catching on blue fire and Jaebum watching with horror. People were running around in a panic, and guards arrived impossibly fast, and they stared right at him because the people motioned in his direction. Instinctually, he started escaping.

Where was Youngjae when he was needed? Jaebum ran through the narrow streets, but the guards surrounded him, cut off his way.

“It’s a mistake,” he said calmly, putting his power to use, “I have nothing to do with it.”

The guards before him glared at him impassively and grabbed him to drag him away.

They threw him into the custody with zero delicacy, closing the bars behind him.

“Wait, I really had nothing to do with that man’s death! I freed the bird, but I didn’t know it would attack him!” he shouted, trying the bars.

“Jaebum?” a familiar voice said from behind him.

He turned around to gape at Jinyoung, who had a very similar expression.

“Jinyoung?” he asked with disbelief, “what are you doing here?”

“Well, it’s a long story –“

“He tried to steal a book,” said another one of the men sitting calmly behind the bars.

That, Jaebum was able to believe in.

“I did not try to steal it!”

“You trespassed on the restricted sector?” Jaebum asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, fine, I did,” Jinyoung admitted stepping to stand right before him, “what did you do?”

Jaebum told him the story and Jinyoung seemed as amazed as he did by everything that happened.

They had to get out of here. As soon as only one guard remained, he started humming softly, Jinyoung going to the back and covering his ears. The man started to doze off and when he was asleep, Jaebum turned to Jinyoung with a questioning look, most of the other prisoners following Jinyoung’s example, though some of them had fallen asleep.

The meeting with Kresnik gave him an idea, but he wasn’t sure it could work. He put his hand on the lock and the other on his stone, trying to feel for the magic. The grate was mundane, but he felt the power of the stone seeping out to change the air around them. He focused on it, imagined Jackson destroying this grating with his sword, said the strange words the bird had taught him. He heard the lock break before he opened his eyes, the people behind him gasping with surprise.

“It really works,” Jinyoung said, with a look Jaebum recognized as the fascination of learning something new.

Jaebum was pretty excited himself, but they had no time for that now. He pulled Jinyoung to the exit, but the passing guards already started to react. Jinyoung managed to grab his sword in the commotion the other escapees provided. They run through unfamiliar streets, followed closely by armed guards, until someone grabbed his shirt and pulled him into a corner, Jinyoung jumping after him, his sword ready to strike, but it turned out to be Youngjae, who motioned for him to keep calm.

Youngjae’s coat was strangely round, and it was moving, a bark coming from underneath the material. Jaebum observed with astonishment as a small white head emerged from beneath the collar. 

“What is that?”

“It’s a dog, Jaebum,” Jinyoung answered, leaning from the corner to check on their followers.

“Are you sure? How can it be so small? Is it a puppy?”

It had a vaguely dog-like muzzle, but overall it looked more like a strange mix between a rabbit and a sheep with its small, white, furry body.

“Her name’s Coco,” Youngjae said, as if the name of the animal was the most pressing issue, “I took her from that stall we stopped by.”

“You stole a weird dog?”

“Did I protest when you wanted to free a giant, murderous bird?”

“You weren’t even there,” Jaebum replied with quick recollection, “if you saw I freed it, why didn’t you help me when the guards took me away?”

“Quiet down, both of you,” Jinyoung ordered.

But it was too late. The guards turned around and backed them more into the corner, Jinyoung and Youngjae preparing their weapons to strike.

“Don’t hurt them!” Jaebum pressed, “they didn’t harm us, they’re just doing their job, but if you attack first, someone’s blood might be spilled.”

Both men looked at him unconvinced, but Jinyoung sheathed his sword and nodded at Youngjae to do the same.

The unexpected arrival of Kresnik saved them from arrest. He asked Jaebum if those were his friends, and when Jaebum acquiesced all four of them were transported with a flap of his gigantic wings and a wave of powerful magic.

They landed on soft cushions, in a big, colorful room, the bird perching on a low table in the middle. A woman came to stand next to him, a middle-aged northerner, her red hair streaked with grey, her playful face pale, and her round eyes green, not with the unnatural glow of Jackson’s eyes, but a leaf-like duller color.

“Is that the Moonchild that freed you, Kresnik?”

The woman was the bird’s witch. She gallantly asked them to stay in the beautiful house as a thank you for freeing her familiar and they accepted, as they had to hide in a place where the guards wouldn’t find them, at least until Jinyoung managed to reach some kind of understanding with them. While his lover was gone, Jaebum, fascinated by the fact he could use a different kind of magic, followed her and Kresnik around with questions and he began understanding that people used magic by bonding with magical creatures or using other natural sources of magic. This took training, the right spell work, and often it helped to have a natural ability to feel the magic around, but that was apparently less rare than it seemed. Magical beings had it easier, beside their powers, the flow of magic overall was more visible to them.

This was completely new to him. The Dal Salam used spells in accordance with their natural gifts, they learned to do that and nothing else. Sometimes they used objects like Bambam did with lapis lazuli, but the power came from him, those were just transmitters, stabilizers. In the case of this magic, the person using it became a transmitter, and it could be used in various ways, that had nothing to do with the nature of the wizard’s abilities, it just needed a source and an ability to bend its power to one’s will.

Kresnik had proposed to teach Jaebum this kind of magic and because of it, Jaebum was now staring out of the balcony, brimming with confused thoughts. It was time for them to go back to the island, they had to start making their way out of the Capital before winter. Jinyoung had succeeded at bribing the authorities to let their offences pass, but the ocean was calling for them to come home.

Jinyoung joined him, feeling his distress even when he did not voice it.

“Do you want to stay?” Jinyoung asked, looking over the city lights as well.

“I can’t,” Jaebum sighed, “you know I can’t. I want to get to know this kind of magic, but I have to return to my family.”

Jinyoung nodded, his posture calm.

“I know you want to stay here. The Academy calls to you. You long to be a scholar.”

“If you’re going to suggest we part ways then –“ Jinyoung started indignantly.

“No,” Jaebum answered, taking Jinyoung’s hand in his reassuringly, “I do not want to live away from you. It makes me a horrible person, to not let you be what you want. I would be ready to use my power to take you back with me. I dread even that we will be away from each other for days or weeks when we get back.”

“I will come as often as I can,” Jinyoung promised, squeezing his hand, “and once I become less necessary in the castle, I will come to live with you. Yugyeom did promise us the house.”

“Really?” Jaebum said hopefully, “you don’t want to stay here?”

“You are not the only one that has to return to the island, Jaebum,” Jinyoung said, and he turned him around so they faced each other, “I am a prince, I did not forget who I was. I promised to help make Arulat a better place, and I will not go back on my word.”

“You already did much for the country.”

“I will not lie and say I don’t see another path for me here. But not without you,” Jinyoung said softly, his eyes resolved, “I told you, if you’re on the island I would return. I will be by your side as long as you let me.”

Jaebum smiled, moved by Jinyoung’s words.

“It’s the same for me.”

He leaned into Jinyoung to give him a warm kiss but the prince backed away a bit, his jaw set with strong intent.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just give me a moment,” Jinyoung said, gulping, “I’m trying to contain myself.”

“What?” Jaebum asked with a chuckle, “what does that mean?”

“I –“ Jinyoung started, worrying his lip with teeth, “I don’t want you to think every time we kiss or are close to each other, it has to end with sex,” Jinyoung said with a slow exhale, “but I can’t control my reactions. My body lights up every time you as much as look at me.”

Jaebum was a bit taken aback. He didn’t think it was possible, he thought that, while Jinyoung was very enthusiastic about their lovemaking, he wasn’t like him. He backed away and sat on the rail, looking at Jinyoung with revelation.

“I think I’m obsessed,” Jinyoung said, peering at Jaebum nervously, “I don’t think this is normal, it’s ridiculous how much I want you. And I don’t want you to think that I am unsatisfied, but I always want more. I’m sorry, that’s why I have to contain myself. We’re having a serious conversation and the only thing I could think of when you stepped closer to me was the way you taste.”

Jaebum laughed.

“What?”

“No, just,” he said between giggles, “can’t you really see, Jinyoung? It’s like you’re talking to a mirror,” he dragged the prince closer to stand between his legs, “I am insatiable. No matter how much time we spend together, no matter how close we are, even if you are buried deep in my body, it’s never enough. I want to devour you.”

Jinyoung stared at him with amazement.

“ _I don’t feel whole when you’re not connected to me in the most intimate way_ ,” Jaebum started whispering in Dalhyo, satisfied by the shiver that went through Jinyoung, “ _it’s such a loss for me every time you draw out of my body. I don’t always cry from pleasure alone, but because I already miss what I’ve just been given._ ”

Jinyoung’s teeth were bared in a way that told Jaebum he was no longer trying to contain himself, which was exactly what Jaebum intended. There was no need for control, now that he understood Jinyoung was as fanatical as him. He wanted to destroy the barriers he himself kept up for this desire not to overtake him completely.

One of them, or both, moved forward to connect their lips, and it was like a conversation by this point, a way they communicated to each other all those feelings that were too pure and complex to explain. He opened his legs wide to invite Jinyoung to come as close as he could, rest wholly against him, as his tongue did immoral things to Jaebum’s mind. He was already hot, already overtaken with the need to mold them together, and he moved his lips against Jinyoung impatiently to let him know he was ready for them to rid of clothes and propriety, to make them whole again, but Jinyoung toyed with him, used his mouth to drive him crazy, pushed his body into his to let Jaebum feel all his excitement, pulled on Jaebum’s hair and bit on his lip, and he made Jaebum melt, became lenient, accept what Jinyoung gave him.

When his body got like this, he knew Jinyoung would start his real attack. Now he picked up the rhythm, his tongue fighting with Jaebum’s as his hands went down over his chest, to clench him through his thin shirt, make Jaebum jump up and gasp, but not letting him enjoy the rough treatment for long, his hands going down to Jaebum’s hips, underneath his thighs, and with one strong move he lifted Jaebum up, his legs and arms going around Jinyoung to hold on tight, interrupting their kiss.

“Jinyoung, I’m heavy,” Jaebum protested, feeling the hands going to his buttocks to hold him up better.

“I carried you through the desert,” Jinyoung reminded, looking into Jaebum’s eyes with humor, “I can definitely manage to carry you to the bed.”

Jaebum used a bit of his power to make himself lighter, afraid for Jinyoung’s back. He weighed more than two years ago, Jinyoung shouldn’t lift him like that, though he certainly didn’t mind the position, wrapped snugly around Jinyoung.

They didn’t even get to the bed right away, Jinyoung holding him up against the wall next to the door, overtaken with the sudden need to kiss him again, his body sharing all the things it wanted to do to Jaebum, making him tremble in answer, bite on Jinyoung’s tongue to hurry up, because if Jinyoung didn’t move right now, Jaebum would coerce the other to take him raw, even if it would hurt him.

Jinyoung did finally take the hint and walked inside, both of them falling onto the bed, Jaebum pinned underneath the other’s body, his hands drawing Jinyoung closer to make their clothed members touch and great each other. He let Jinyoung go only because he knew he went to get some oil, and he used the time to disrobe completely. He was too impatient to let Jinyoung enjoy the action.

The room was strangely decorated, in subtle, nude colours and with many soft elements, small and big pillows, heavy curtains, a thick carpet. Over the large bed was a mirror and he could only find one reason for that addition. Not all the chambers were in this style, Youngjae’s looked far more ordinary, but he didn’t mind the assumption that they would enjoy this one.

When Jinyoung did return, red as if he ran here, he wasted no time and immediately sat between his legs, coating his fingers in the oil. Jaebum’s back arched when the first finger circled around his hole, to enter it a moment later. It was too little stimulation, he was mad with the need for more, and he sat up, told Jinyoung to ‘hurry it up’ and started undoing the buttons of the prince’s shirt.

He was already reaching for the pants when the third finger made him halt and close his eyes, the ripple of pleasure at being stretched making him unable to continue. In the end, Jinyoung had to interrupt their connection to take off his pants, Jaebum too unfocused to do it. 

He wanted to make Jinyoung addicted to him, the way he was to the prince. He yearned for all of Jinyoung right away, waiting was not an option. From the time he allowed this to happen, he no longer had any patience. The first time they did this, Jinyoung was a bit insecure, although very willing. Jaebum loved it, he guided Jinyoung gently into it, and while he was giving himself away he felt such care, he used soft words of encouragement, gave Jinyoung little kisses on his face, his arms, held his quivering lover close. It was such a tender emotion then, along with lust, with passion, he felt he ought to look after Jinyoung, make sure his first experience was as easy-going and satisfying as possible. But Jinyoung really was a fast learner, and he hardly needed someone who minded his pleasure, he was very active in making both of them feel good. Jaebum loved the unexperienced Jinyoung and the confident one, he loved him whether he was dominant and strong, or languid and undemanding.

Whatever way Jinyoung wanted to be at any given moment Jaebum adored and welcomed them all. The past versions of him, they never disappeared, they just piled one upon the other. Even now, this Jinyoung who knew exactly what to do, dragged Jaebum down by his hips and opened his legs confidently, entered him gradually with a measure of teasing control, had something of that tentative Jinyoung that had been so afraid of hurting him. Overtaken with a sudden wave of fondness, Jaebum raised to embrace him, holding onto his shoulders tightly, Jinyoung stilled inside him, his head falling down to rest on Jaebum’s shoulder. There was something very tender about this connection, of entering into each other. Jinyoung was like a raw vein, stripped of all but sensation, and Jaebum cherished this, wanted to drown in the impression of confining Jinyoung in physicality. He felt made for this, created with the purpose of letting Jinyoung invade him.

But the delicate Jinyoung was not the only one present, and Jaebum was pushed down the bed, his legs lifted so that Jinyoung could get deeper inside, gasping out at being so filled, in such sensitive ways. He glanced up and in the mirror he saw how shameless his body looked: sweaty, erect, arched. He looked through hazy eyes at himself, smirked with unabashed entertainment, and felt a bit like an actor. What they did together, it was an art of a kind, the oldest, truest type, just two bodies and the music of their movements. A simple thing born of complex emotions.

He turned his eyes to Jinyoung, extended his hands towards him theatrically and the prince took it, allowing Jaebum to pull him forward, rest on his torso, between his spread legs. Jinyoung snapped his hips forward harshly, Jaebum whimpering for more. He forgot about the mirror for a while, too focused on the feeling of Jinyoung’s rhythmic thrusts, his teeth on Jaebum’s throat. When he opened his eyes, they were moist, the liquid falling down his burning cheeks, and what he saw had him taken aback. It was like seeing himself for the first time, this nakedness different and new. He was distracted between being fascinated with his own wrecked and blissful expression, and the view of Jinyoung’s taut back muscles, his round buttocks that moved hypnotically as he pushed inside him again and again. Jinyoung had scars on his back, on his chest, reminders of his mother’s lessons, and Jaebum was intimately acquainted with all of them, spending hours on tracing the faded marks with his fingers and lips. Now, he pierced the skin of Jinyoung’s back and gave him his own marks, the prince crying out. Jaebum led his nails unhurriedly down, enthralled by watching it happen in the mirror, the red lines making him clench around Jinyoung with bizarre satisfaction. Jinyoung surged as he sped up his movements, and Jaebum had to free one of his hands from his back to hold himself with the headboard. The thrusts were pushing him back, the bed creaking to add to the dirty melody of slapping flesh and groans with names and curses thrown around. Jaebum wasn’t prepared to be suddenly left empty and he wanted to order Jinyoung to come back to fill him with his heat, but he didn’t manage before he was forcefully turned around, posed to rest his hands on the headboard, Jinyoung reentering him with double force, subjugating Jaebum with his body, pinning his hands down with his own, animalistic in his need. Their bodies moved forward together with every shove, merged into one.

Jaebum didn’t expect the hand on his cock. He could come from Jinyoung hammering that point inside him alone, but his beloved was close and he wanted to make Jaebum come before him. Jaebum could do nothing but comply as Jinyoung’s finger circled the head, his fist pulling on him in time with his thrusts, whispering praises into his ear. Jaebum exclaimed as his orgasm hit him with crushing intensity, tightening around Jinyoung, who let out a whine and took control of his hips, pounded him without rest, Jaebum moaning, overtaken by feeling the other’s climax building and freeing within him, as if he himself was experiencing it a second time.

When Jinyoung stilled, soft and spent, Jaebum was trembling, tears streaming down his face. He already missed that moment, the changed state of arousal and release. Jinyoung comforted him with wet kisses along his shoulder and back. He was cautious when he left Jaebum’s body, delicate when he slid them down to lie on the bed, facing each other. His next kiss was long, soothing, interrupted when he felt Jaebum’s tears again.

“Why are you crying?” he asked gently, tasting the salty streaks with little licks along his cheeks. He was used to it, Jaebum often found himself in tears when his emotions were heightened, so Jinyoung was no longer apprehensive when it happened.

“I want you inside again,” Jaebum said with blatant earnestness.

Jinyoung already knew he was unbalanced, no need to hide it. He would keep infecting the prince with his whole strength.

At first, Jinyoung looked into his eyes with astonished affection. Then he smirked, and gave Jaebum one last biting kiss, before sliding down to nibble at Jaebum’s nipples, Jaebum holding him closer by the hair, but soon Jinyoung went down further to attack his chest and stomach, his thighs.

“As you wish,” Jinyoung stated, raising his head to look at him mischievously.

Jaebum didn’t quite grasp what he meant, they were both too spent to harden so quickly again. He understood when Jinyoung leaned down and put his tongue over Jaebum’s over-sensitive hole, Jaebum having to bite on his own hand from the intensity of the organ entering his exploited opening. Jinyoung had devoted most of that night to drawing so many different sounds out of him, Jaebum could hardly speak the next morning. 

***

It was nice to be sailing the ocean again, but both of them stared longingly after the disappearing land. Jaebum was happy to return to his family, but he was also aware that their homecoming meant Jinyoung would have to go back to the palace again. Additionally, they both didn’t get to find out everything they wanted to, didn’t see the world that turned out to be so large and diverse.

“We will return,” Jinyoung said, his hand on Jaebum’s back, “we aren’t prisoners. We can visit here again. When your children get older, when I have less work, we will stay for a longer period.”

Jaebum smiled in his direction. He admired Jinyoung’s ability to look towards the future with optimism and it filled him with hope. As confusing as life could get, he felt he could get through it with the prince by his side.

He heard a flapping of wings overhead and he looked up to see Kresnik.

“Catch, Moonchild!” the bird shouted and Jaebum turned around to grab the heavy book flying their way, only managing to slow down its descend onto the deck.

‘Experimental ways of producing energy,’ was its title.

“Is that the book you tried to steal?” he turned to Jinyoung who already took the book up with childlike glee.

“Borrow,” he answered, opening the pages, “I was going to return it.”

Jaebum didn’t manage to retort because Kresnik landed on the deck, scaring away Coco, who jumped into Youngjae’s protective arms.

“Thank you,” Jinyoung said, holding the book like a treasure.

Kresnik inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“What are you doing here?” Jaebum asked.

“My mistress wants to see the island through my eyes. I know you don’t often let strangers in, but in exchange, I will teach you how my and my mistress’ magic works. Your mate is a prince, isn’t he? We offer him this gift to let me visit his country.”

Jaebum turned to Jinyoung with delight. The future certainly went in unexpected directions from one moment to the next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It took me longer than I thought it would to write this chapter because I got a stable job (sigh), so I'm a bit hectic. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed it!


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